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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  COMPANY, 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


CIPHERS 


BY 


ELLEN    OLNEY   KIRK 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  STORY  OF  MARGARET  KENT,"  "  SONS  AND  DAUGHTERS,11 
"  QUEEN  MONEY,"  "  WALFORD,"  ETC. 


"  Ciphers  forget  their  integer  " 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 

restf,  (£ambri&0e 
1891 


Copyright,  1891, 
BY  ELLEN  OLNEY  KIRK. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


CIPHERS. 


"  Ciphers  forget  their  integer." 


I. 

THERE  was  just  that  touch  of  unexpectedness  in 
Mrs.  Lee  Childe's  sudden  reappearance  in  New 
York  society  which  impresses  the  imagination. 
During  the  four  years  of  her  widowhood  people  had 
asked,  "  Is  Milly  never  coming  back  to  settle  down 
with  her  father-in-law  ?  "  Then  the  time  had  arrived 
when  she  was  ready  to  shape  out  a  new  career  for 
herself,  and  all  the  world  was  taken  by  surprise. 
This  afternoon  in  November  she  had  been  standing 
since  three  o'clock  receiving  the  stream  of  guests 
who  had  promptly  answered  her  card  of  invitation, 
and  although  it  was  now  past  five  hardly  a  visitor 
had  left  the  house.  Each  seemed  eagerly  anxious 
to  remain  within  sight  or  hearing  of  the  hostess, 
and  an  inch  of  standing-room  was  grudgingly  con- 
tested to  new-comers.  A  conjunction  of  circum- 
stances had  made  Mrs.  Lee  Childe's  life  excep- 
tional, and  not  a  few  were  ready  to  say  to-day 
that  she  herself  was  exceptional.  The  crowd  was 
composed  chiefly  of  women,  and  they  watched  and 


2046113 


2  CIPHERS. 

listened,  studying  her  wit  and  beauty  as  a  veteran 
general  studies  his  enemy's  strength  and  posi- 
tion. There  were  charming  old  ladies,  who,  hav- 
ing fought  their  own  battles  more  or  less  success- 
fully, might  now  with  magnanimity  assist  at  a 
younger  woman's  triumph.  There  were  matrons, 
with  daughters  of  their  own  who  would  find  a 
rival  in  the  youthful  widow.  There  were  expe- 
rienced society  girls,  who  coveted  this  easy  vantage- 
ground  held  by  a  woman  hardly  beyond  their  own 
age.  Then  there  were  the  debutantes  who  gazed 
with  open-eyed  amazement  at  the  phenomenon  of  a 
woman  so  consummately  adult  as  to  have  been 
married  and  to  have  lost  her  husband,  yet  who  not 
only  assumed  the  advantages  of  youth,  but  towards 
whom  every  eligible  man  in  the  room  was  pressing 
with  a  definiteness  of  intention  which  might  easily 
have  rankled  in  the  breasts  of  these  charming 
young  creatures,  to  whom  the  good  things  of  the 
opening  season  rightfully  belonged. 

"Evidently,"  the  chaperons  were  saying  to  each 
other,  "Milly  Childe  has  refused  to  grow  old." 

"  She  is  beautiful,  magnificent,  enchanting," 
said  Paul  Secor.  "  I  have  always  observed  that 
widowhood  gives  a  fresh  lease  of  youth  and  beauty. 
Besides,  I  suppose  she  takes  the  family  '  elixir  * 
regularly." 

This  was  an  old  joke,  but  some  witticisms  enjoy 
perennial  freshness.  To  know  what  and  whom  to 
laugh  at,  as  well  as  when  to  do  so,  is  the  surest 
test  of  knowledge  of  the  world.  For  in  society, 


CIPHERS.  3 

from  reasons  of  state,  so  much  that  is  actually  dull 
and  absurd  has  to  be  taken  with  profound  serious- 
ness, so  much  pettiness  must  be  accepted  as  im- 
measurable bigness,  so  many  balloons  to  which  a 
pin  prick  of  ridicule  would  be  fatal  require  to  be 
inflated  by  the  bated  breath  of  reverence,  that  we 
need  even  to  smile  warily.  But  it  had  always  been 
admissible  to  laugh  at  "  Dr.  Pardee's  Elixir  of 
Life,"  which  was  the  source  of  Milly  Childe's 
wealth. 

Nine  years  before,  when  Lee  Childe,  the  most 
exclusive,  the  most  fastidious  of  men,  had  married 
Emily  Briggs,  co-heiress  with  her  uncle  to  one  of 
the  most  successful  patent  medicines  of  the  last 
half  century,  society  had  exclaimed  much  after  the 
fashion  of  Mme.  de  Sevigne  over  a  famous  mesal- 
liance of  her  epoch ;  not  however  but  that  all  the 
world  was  ready  to  applaud  Mrs.  Rutherford 
Childe's  cleverness  in  securing-  the  Pardee  millions 
for  her  sou.  Everybody  rushed  to  see  the  bride 
who,  already  fabulously  rich  in  dower,  would  all 
the  time  go  on  receiving-  nobody  knows  how  many 
thousands  of  yearly  income  from  the  elixir,  which 
still  bubbled  perennially  from  its  original  spring, 
rejuvenating  the  human  race. 

Mrs.  Lee  Childe,  ne'e  Emily  Brig-g-s,  proved  to 
be  a  girl  of  eighteen,  so  youthful  in  face,  figure, 
and  manner  as  to  seem  two  years  younger.  She 
wore  the  gowns  of  her  splendid  trousseau  with  an 
air  of  being  oppressed  by  their  weight.  She  was 
slight  to  fragility,  pale,  with  great  frightened  eyes 


4  CIPHERS. 

often  on  the  point  of  tears,  which  after  a  single 
questioning  glance  at  a  stranger  were  apt  to  hide 
themselves  under  their  lids.  Her  voice  was  so 
low  as  to  be  almost  inaudible.  When  pointedly 
addressed  she  looked  at  her  husband  or  her  mo- 
ther-in-law, seeming  eager  to  escape  the  least  social 
ordeal.  Friends,  even  acquaintances,  she  made 
none. 

Mrs.  Rutherford  Childe  was  a  brilliant  woman 
with  an  easy  habit  of  supremacy,  and  she  carried 
her  timid  little  daughter-in-law  through  a  season  or 
two,  but  she  was  mortal  and  did  not  long  survive 
the  reestablishment  of  the  family  fortune.  After 
her  death,  her  husband,  who  had  spent  the  last 
twenty  years  going  up  and  down  the  face  of  the 
earth,  gave  up  his  wanderings  and  resumed  his 
long  vacant  place  in  the  Childe  menage.  By  this 
time  Lee,  who  had  gradually  detached  himself 
from  actual  life,  and  trusted  to  his  mother  to  shape 
events,  grew  weary  of  pretending  to  be  well,  gave 
himself  up  to  chronic  invalidism,  and  in  two  years 
died  of  heart  disease. 

Soon  after  this  event,  Emily,  or  Milly  as  she 
was  called  by  all  the  Lee  and  Childe  connection, 
which  forms  a  considerable  fraction  of  social  New 
York,  went  into  the  country.  There  had  been  a 
singular  dearth  of  gossip  about  her  in  these  four 
years.  Thus  to  society  at  large  a  new  planet  had 
swum  into  its  ken,  and  it  could  hardly  be  won- 
dered at  if  people  looked  at  each  other  with  a 
wild  surmise.  The  traditions  of  her  introduction 


CIPHERS.  5 

to  society  iiine  years  before  were  the  traditions  of 
a  failure.  Even  those  who  best  remembered  her 
would  have  said  she  was  a  plain  little  creature, 
without  style,  without  conversation,  without  chic. 
Evidently  it  was  necessary  to  collect  fresh  facts  to 
make  fresh  inferences.  This  was  a  handsome  wo- 
man, a  woman  of  distinction,  with  an  air  of  being 
used  to  meet  the  world  on  equal  terms  and  decide  for 
herself  what  things  in  life  she  accepted  or  rejected. 

"  I  can't  quite  define  her,"  said  Paul  Secor,  as 
questions  and  comments  began  to  stir  like  a  breeze. 
"  Is  it  that  she  is  actually  a  beautiful  woman,  or  is 
she  simply  well  dressed?  " 

Certainly  all  the  women  were  ready  to  answer  that 
her  gown  was  nothing  in  particular.  It  might  be 
called  half  mourning,  gray  with  fluffy  white  effects 
about  the  throat,  and  its  only  audacity  was  that  it 
proclaimed  a  pretty  woman's  challenge  to  be  beau- 
tiful in  spite  of  colors  which  would  make  most 
wearers  resemble  Lot's  wife.  In  her  manner  prob- 
ably lay  the  trick  of  a  certain  charm  she  undoubt- 
edly possessed.  She  had  always  had  these  same 
superb  gray  eyes,  but  had  only  now  learned  to  use 
them  to  look  at  the  world  in  an  honest,  innocent 
way,  yet  with  a  sort  of  dreaminess.  One  could  not 
quite  understand  what  one  saw  in  those  eyes.  Her 
glance  and  smile  together  showed  plenty  of  mother- 
wit  and  a  turn  for  humor.  She  carried  herself 
well,  was  spontaneous,  natural,  with  a  soft  wo- 
manly witchery.  Yet  it  was  evident  that  she  held 
her  sympathy  a  little  in  reserve  ;  was  resolved  to  be 


6  CIPHERS. 

natural,  with  an  arch,  bright,  womanly  way.  She 
did  not  perhaps  always  give  her  sympathies  full 
sway,  but  seemed  resolute  always  to  be  herself. 

Indeed,  mere  beauty  would  have  been  unsatis* 
factory,  ineffective,  under  the  ordeal  imposed  to- 
day upon  Mrs.  Lee  Childe,  who,  although  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  ladies  receiving  with  her, 
by  her  own  unaided  glow  put  out  all  minor  lights. 
It  was  in  her  audacity,  in  her  cleverness,  in  her 
tone  where  lay  her  triumph.  She  triumphed  in- 
deed in  not  triumphing  at  all,  for  this  event  of  her 
return  which  had  startled  all  New  York  evidently 
seemed  to  her  nothing  in  particular. 

By  half  past  five  the  tide  was  at  its  full,  and 
Holly  Ruff  and  his  friend  Sidney  Breck,  who  were 
the  last  to  arrive,  could  not  advance  a  step  beyond 
the  threshold  of  the  drawing-room.  Ruff  was  a 
slender  man  of  medium  height,  with  a  dark,  pale, 
rather  handsome  face,  his  features  well-cut,  and  his 
black  hair  setting  off  a  fine  forehead.  The  pose  of 
his  head  suggested  a  habit  of  fixed  attention  to 
the  subject  before  him,  and  his  alert  critical  air 
was  perhaps  heightened  by  his  eyeglasses,  through 
which  his  eyes  seemed  to  burn.  His  companion,  a 
bright-eyed,  boyish-looking  fellow,  was  much  his 
junior,  and  evidently  looked  to  him  for  orders. 
The  group  now  gathered  before  Mrs.  Childe  was 
within  the  range  of  the  eyes  and  ears  of  the  new- 
comers. It  was  composed  chiefly  of  men.  To 
begin  with,  there  was  the  well  oiled  and  accurately 
poised  weathercock,  Whiley  Norreys,  a  well  made, 


CIPHERS.  1 

carefully  dressed  man,  with  a  bland  air  showing  an 
absolute  knowledge  of  the  art  of  pleasing,  and  a 
smooth  deliberate  voice,  which  in  spite  of  its  soft 
intonations  invariably  mastered  and  bore  down  all 
that  he  wished  to  silence.  No  man  excelled  Whi- 
ley  Norreys  in  the  art  of  foretelling  from  which 
point  passing  winds  were  to  blow,  and  at  the  pres- 
ent moment  the  way  he  stood  squarely  planted 
before  Mrs.  Lee  Childe,  pointedly  addressing  his 
every  remark  to  her,  was  sufficient  to  establish  her 
as  the  success  of  the  season.  Then  there  was 
Paul  Secor,  a  tall,  handsome  man  with  a  soldierly 
carriage,  a  long  fair  moustache,  and  a  pair  of  half- 
melancholy,  half-laughing  blue  eyes.  There  was 
Archy  Lamg,  the  best  dancer  in  New  York,  the 
hero  of  a  hundred  flirtations,  but  lacking  advance- 
ment, and  Geddes  Poorshaw,  a  plain,  solidly-built 
fellow  with  no  charm,  but  the  owner  of  a  com- 
fortable fortune. 

"  If  I  do  not  love  New  York,"  Mrs.  Childe  was 
saying,  as  Ruff  and  Sidney  Breck  stood  together 
under  the  archway  of  the  door,  "  it  is  only  be- 
cause there  is  nothing  to  do  in  New  York." 

"  In  the  years  that  you  have  been  away  from 
New  York,  Mrs.  Childe,"  said  "VVhiley  Norreys, 
"  the  town  has  advanced  by  great  strides." 

"  So  I  hear,  but  we  know  where  great  strides 
lead  to." 

"  Not  to  heaven,  Whiley,  not  to  heaven,  but  the 
other  place,"  put  in  Paul  Secor. 

"But,  my  dear  Milly,"  said  Mrs.  Geddes,  "I 


8  CIPHERS. 

can  assure  you  that  you  will  find  only  too  much 
to  do  in  New  York.  I  come  down  to  breakfast 
with  my  bonnet  on  at  nine  o'clock,  my  carriage  is 
already  at  the  door,  and  that  is  the  way  I  go  on 
until  midnight,  —  indeed,  through  the  season  often 
three  or  four  hours  later.  I  never  have  a  moment 
to  myself.  I  often  say  1  am  like  a  clock  which  is 
wound  up,  and  goes  by  some  force  not  its  own." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Childe,  "  one  might  get 
into  a  treadmill  and  grind  corn  from  one  year's 
end  to  the  other ;  but  that  is  not  my  notion  of  a 
delightful  existence." 

"  You  will  have  plenty  of  dinners  and  balls  to 
go  to,  Mrs.  Childe,"  said  Paul  Secor  "and  cer- 
tainly we  all  hope  you  will  give  plenty  of  dinners 
and  balls.  We  needed  just  this  one  house  more  to 
look  to  for  agreeable  things.  And  entertaining  is 
an  occupation  in  itself." 

"  Entertaining  has  become  one  of  the  fine  arts," 
said  Whiley  Norreys,  with  the  solemnity  of  a  high 
priest  explaining  the  rites.  "  The  time,  the  fore- 
thought, the  money,  the  intellect,  the  original  gen- 
ius, I  might  say,  which  are  spent  in  the  details 
which  go  to  make  up  the  sum  of  a  highly  civilized 
dinner  or  supper,  might,  if  differently  expended, 
carry  on  the  affairs  of  a  small  kingdom.  Every 
new  season  brings  its  demand  for  some  clever  de- 
vice, some  new  kink,  some  cunning  caprice  of  fash- 
ion. The  mere  bric-a-brac,  if  I  may  use  the  term, 
of  any  sort  of  social  occasion,  calls  for  skill,  know- 
ledge, research,  above  all,  supreme  good  taste. 


CIPHERS.  9 

This  is  what  gives  modern  society  its  subtle  aroma 
of  elegance." 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  said  Milly ;  "  I  fear  you  will 
never  find  any  subtle  aroma  of  elegance  about  my 
dinners,  if  I  venture  to  give  any  after  this  initia- 
tion. I  shall  simply  say  to  my  man,  '  So  many 
people  are  coming  on  such  a  night.  Have  plenty 
of  flowers,  but  not  a  jungle ;  plenty  of  light,  but 
veil  it.'  Then  there  is  always  some  good-natured 
person  to  settle  the  distribution  of  guests.  If  I 
thought  I  had  to  trouble  myself  about  those  trifles 
I  should  return  to  my  lodge  in  the  wilderness  with- 
out loss  of  time." 

"Whiley  Norreys  shook  his  head,  smiling  sadly ; 
a  murmur  ran  round. 

"  Is  n't  she  saucy  ? "  said  Georgina  Hurst  to 
Paul  Secor. 

"  I  like  it.  She  jingles  her  money  in  our  faces. 
I  enjoy  the  jingle  even  if  it  is  other  people's 
money." 

"  Do  I  like  dinners  ? "  Mrs.  Childe  was  now 
saying.  "  One  must  eat,  and  it  is  agreeable  to  eat 
in  company  with  one's  friends.  But  I  am  not  a 
Strasbourg  goose,  and  I  can  only  eat  a  certain 
amount.  I  hate  made  dishes  and  I  loathe  wines, 
and  if  there  are  too  many  courses,  and  the  people 
who  sit  near  me  do  not  amuse  me,  why,  of  course 
I  do  not  enjoy  dinners,  —  quite  the  contrary." 

"You  are  too  young  to  have  learned  how  to 
dine,"  said  Whiley  Norreys  with  tender  patronage. 
"  You  like  balls  better." 


10  CIPHERS. 

"  The  few  balls  I  have  attended  impressed  me 
as  mournful  to  a  degree.  Still,  I  do  like  the 
music." 

"  Don't  you  dance  ?  "  inquired  Archy  Laiug. 

"  Not  in  company.  Often  when  I  am  in  good 
spirits  I  execute  a  pas  seul,  but  at  balls,  even  if 
I  felt  the  requisite  elan,  which  I  very  much  doubt, 
I  might  surprise  people  too  much." 

"  Our  balls  have  grown  as  dull  as  ditch-water," 
said  Paul  Secor.  "  The  novelty  we  need  is  to 
have  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  dance  a  pas  seul." 

"  At  one  time  of  my  life,"  observed  Whiley 
Norreys,  "  balls  seemed  to  me  the  only  rational 
end  of  existence.  Now  that  I  am  a  trifle  too  heavy 
in  weight  to  enjoy  making  a  teetotum  of  myself 
balls  take  another  aspect.  There  is  no  such  op- 
portunity for  a  woman  to  display  a  beautiful 
gown." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Norreys,  think  of  a  show  window  and 
a  figure  revolving  by  machinery,"  said  Milly 
Childe. 

"  Then  a  ball  offers  such  an  unlimited  opportu- 
nity for  conversation,"  said  Whiley  Norreys,  shak- 
ing his  head  at  this  frivolity. 

•'  I  had  no  idea  there  was  any  conversation  in 
New  York  nowadays,"  said  Milly. 

"  Set  up  a  salon,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Geddes. 
"  You  will  find  that  people  talk  very  cleverly,  not 
perhaps  in  the  Chateaubriand  fashion,  but  every 
epoch  has  its  own  topics." 

"  What  is  talked  about  in  this  epoch  ?  " 


CIPHEBS.  11 

"  Music  seems  to  be  one  of  the  great  subjects." 
"  I  suppose  you  mean  the  German  opera  ?  " 
"  But  do  you  not  like  the  German  opera  ?  " 
"  Immensely,  —  that  is,  until  people  explain  it 
to  me." 

"  Evidently,  Mrs.  Childe,  you  don't  begin  to 
appreciate  the  boon  of  a  few  definite  ideas  on  a 
subject,"  said  Paul  Secor.  "  Music  used  to  be  a 
melodious  but  inarticulate  voice  out  of  the  blue ; 
it  made  one  sentimental,  filled  one  with  hankerings 
after  one  knew  not  what.  Nowadays  we  sum  it 
all  up  in  a  sentence  :  '  Thuin,  thum,  thum,'  — '  that 
is  the  giant's  motif,'  we  say  to  each  other.  '  Diddle 
diddle,  diddle,'  — '  that  is  the  lump  of  pure  gold  at 
the  bottom  of  the  Rhine.'  Wagner  has  been  a 
distinct  boon  to  society." 

"  There  was  never  a  period  in  the  world,  Mrs. 
Childe,"  said  Whiley  Norreys,  "  when  the  best  so- 
ciety was  so  well  equipped  with  succinct  opinions. 
There  is  no  vagueness.  It  is  absolutely  essential 
to  be  able  to  talk  on  every  sort  of  topic  :  European 
politics,  the  latest  novels,  Shakespeare,  Brown- 
ing"- 

"It  quite  makes  one  long  for  the  dark  ages, 
does  it  not?"  said  Milly. 

"  At  the  houses  I  visit,"  put  in  Archy  Laing, 
"  we  don't  discuss  music  or  literature,  but  simply 
gossip.  Confess  you  like  to  talk  about  people, 
cousin  Milly." 

"Of  course  I  like  to  talk  about  people.  It  is 
the  relish  of  life,  the  pepper  in  the  stew.  But  oh, 


12  CIPHEES. 

what  a  dangerous  indulgence  !  Even  when  I  hold 
my  tongue  I  am  apt  to  make  enemies  at  the  rate  of 
one  a  day.  If  I  were  to  open  my  lips  —  but  there 
is  Mr.  Ruff  wedged  in  at  the  door  !  Will  some- 
body please  move  and  let  him  come  and  speak  to 
me." 

She  advanced  a  step,  holding  out  her  hand 
eagerly.  The  crowd  parted  and  gave  way  to  the 
late  comers,  who  bore  their  sudden  preeminence  as 
best  they  might.  Holly  Ruff  was  comparatively 
well  known,  but  his  companion  was  an  utter  stran- 
ger except  to  the  Poorshavvs,  who,  when  everybody 
said,  "  Bi-eck  ?  Sidney  Breck  ?  Who  is  he  ?"  re- 
plied, "  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  He  is  the  architect 
who  designed  our  cottages  at  Newport." 

The  interruption  was  needed  to  break  the  charm ; 
somebody  discovered  that  it  was  past  six  o'clock, 
and  a  move  was  made  at  once.  Mrs.  Childe  took 
the  ebb  as  she  had  taken  the  flow,  with  easy  good 
humor,  which  still  held  its  own  and  conceded  no- 
thing. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  always  at  home.  I  shall  have 
Saturdays  put  on  my  cards,  but  I  dare  say  I  shall 
never  go  out.  What  is  there  to  go  out  for  ?  It  is 
so  hard  to  manage  it.  If  one  longs  for  a  drive  one 
has  to  think  of  it  two  hours  before,  or  sit  waiting 
with  one's  wraps  on  until  the  fit  for  going  out  is 
over.  Oh,  yes,  I  'm  certain  to  be  at  home." 

"  Am  I  going  to  the  Bellews'  silver  wedding  ? 
Perhaps  so,  but  I  always  insist 'that  after  a  woman 
has  been  married  twenty-five  years  she  ought  to  be 


CIPHERS.  13 

allowed  the  privilege  of  honorable  retirement  on  a 
pension." 

"  Of  course  I  '11  come  to  your  coming-out  tea, 
my  dear.  And  let  me  see,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ? 
Shall  it  be  a  pink  or  a  yellow  luncheon  ?  " 

"  I  have  looked  at  that  gown,  Fanny,  and  all  the 
afternoon  I  have  been  dying  of  envy.  Quel  chic!  " 

"  Oh,  as  to  papa,  —  the  moment  I  told  him 
everybody  was  coming  to-day,  he  retired  into  pri- 
vate life.  No  doubt  he  has  spent  his  time  in  wash- 
ing his  hands  and  saying  mournfully  that  Milly 
does  not  know  what  she  is  doing." 

"  Don't  go  yet,"  she  had  found  time  to  say  to 
Holly  Kuff ;  and  he  had  walked  down  the  thinning 
rooms  with  his  companion,  and,  crossing  the  hall, 
entered  the  library. 

"  Well,  Sidney,  what  did  you  think  of  her  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  I  admired  her,"  said  Breck. 

"But  did  not  like  her?" 

"  I  had  no  time  to  think  about  my  individual 
feelings.  I  simply  was  delighted  to  have  the 
chance  to  watch  her  and  listen  to  her." 

"  She  struck  you  perhaps  as  more  acute  than 
amiable." 

"  She  took  away  my  breath  at  times." 

"  That  is  her  society  manner,"  said  Ruff,  with 
the  tone  of  a  man  who  has  mastered  the  subject. 
"  The  truth  about  Milly  Childe  is  that  she  is  half 
a  dozen  women  in  one.  You  see  she  is  not  a  happy 
woman,  has  never  been  a  happy  woman.  Of  all 


14  CIPHERS. 

that  crowd  pressing  about  her  not  one  knew  her. 
I  myself  am  the  only  intimate  friend  she  has  in 
New  York." 

"  You  were  saying,"  murmured  Breck,  "  that 
there  were  half  a  dozen  women  in  her.  I  am  curi- 
ous to  know  what  you  meant." 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Ruff,  speaking  always 
with  the  deliberate  consciousness  of  a  scientist 
who  has  reduced  his  observations  to  exact  formula. 
"  There  is  the  woman  who  is  ambitious  to  shine  in 
society,  and  the  woman  who  laughs  at  society  ;  the 
refined  womanly  woman,  with  all  the  modesty,  re- 
serve, and  dread  of  daylight  which  charms  us,  and 
yet  the  woman  of  wit  who  is  carried  away,  easily 
outsteps  bounds,  and  is  too  reckless  of  displeasing  ; 
the  woman  of  intellect,  the  woman  of  heart ;  the 
cynical  woman,  and  the  intensely  romantic  woman. 
She  went  through  an  experience  which  utterly  dis- 
enchanted her,  yet  she  is  as  fresh  as  a  girl.  She 
is  completely  disillusioned,  yet  her  bright  inquis- 
itive mind  is  alert  for  every  new  idea,  and  she  pos- 
sesses as  acute  and  discriminating  an  intellect  as 
any  woman  I  know." 

"  And  she  lives  here,"  said  Breck,  looking  about 
the  rich  room,  at  the  deep  cushioned  chairs  before 
the  fire  burning  in  the  grate  ;  at  the  reading-tables 
with  their  carefully  shaded  lights ;  at  the  books 
everywhere,  on  shelves,  in  cases,  and  strewn  about 
amid  sheaves  of  periodicals.  The  sense  of  quiet 
and  seclusion,  of  opportunity  for  leisure,  reading, 
and  thought,  was  refreshing  to  him  after  the  gay 


CIPHERS.  15 

bustle  and  idle  chattering  of  the  parlors.  While 
they  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence,  a  slender  white 
hand  drew  aside  the  portiere  which  separated  the 
two  rooms,  and  an  elderly  man  appeared.  This 
was  Rutherford  Childe,  father-in-law  of  the  woman 
whom  Ruff  had  been  describing.  He  was  past 
sixty,  but  had  reached  the  downward  slope  of  life 
without  losing  the  delicate  good  looks  of  his  youth. 
His  hair  had  whitened,  but  it  gave  added  distinc- 
tion to  his  chiseled  features  and  fire  to  his  dark 
eyes.  His  manner  was  peculiarly  gentle  ;  he  was 
not  easily  stirred ;  he  took  life  quietly,  had  always 
hated  scenes,  and  for  that  reason  perhaps  had 
never  been  so  happy  as  since  his  brilliant,  ener- 
getic, domineering  wife  had  dropped  out  from  his 
circle.  After  his  son's  death  he  had  lived  on  in 
the  old  Childe  mansion,  which  had  at  the  time  of 
Milly's  marriage  passed  into  her  possession.  His 
life  was  not  desolate ;  his  daughter-in-law  came 
and  went,  and  he  had  a  circle  of  friends  of  whose 
life  he  made,  he  believed,  an  essential  part. 

"  Have  the  women  gone  away  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  Ruff. 

"  They  are  going." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Mr.  Childe  devoutly. 
"  Milly  arrived  Friday  with  half  a  mind  to  sail  for 
Liverpool  next  day.  *  Why  not  settle  down  com- 
fortably for  the  winter  with  me  ? '  I  asked  her. 
Then  the  first  thing  she  did  on  Monday  was  to  set 
Mrs.  Fletcher  and  Georgy  Hurst  making  out  a 
visiting  list  for  her.  This  is  the  result." 


16  CIPHERS. 

"  Very  brilliant  affair,"  said  Ruff.  "  Let  me 
introduce  Sidney  Breck,  Mr.  Childe.  This  young- 
ster longed  for  a  glimpse  of  society,  so  I  took  the 
liberty  of  bringing  him." 

"  I  have  had  several  years  of  solid  comfort,"  ob- 
served Mr.  Childe  mournfully.  "  It  is  something 
to  be  fenced  off  from  this  world.  However,  Milly 
is  young.  She  has  not  learned  the  value  of  peace 
and  quietness.  Let  us  go  and  see  how  she  has 
stood  it." 

They  found  only  a  group  of  five  in  the  parlors : 
Mrs.  Fletcher,  a  white-haired,  dark -eyed,  soft- 
skinned,  and  still  very  pretty  woman,  although  not 
far  from  sixty,  and  her  two  nieces,  Mrs.  Ferris 
and  Miss  Hurst,  all  cousins  of  Mr.  Childe,  who 
had  been  helping  Milly  to  receive,  besides  Whiley 
Norreys,  who  always  lingered  behind  to  be  sure  of 
missing  nothing  pleasant  or  profitable. 

"  Mercy  on  us,"  Milly  was  saying,  "  are  you  not 
all  tired  to  death  ?  For  heaven's  sake,  let  us  sit 
down ;  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground  and  tell  sad 
stories  of  the  death  of  kings." 

"  Live  queens  are  a  better  subject,"  said  Norreys. 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  out  before,  cousin 
Rutherford  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Fletcher,  addressing  Mr. 
Childe.  "  You  need  not  pretend  not  to  like  soci- 
ety, for  we  know  there  is  nothing  you  like  half  so 
well." 

"  That  is  a  very  good  reason  for  staying  away 
from  a  crowded  afternoon  reception,"  said  Mr. 
Childe.  "  Surely  you  would  not  invite  a  gourmand 
to  a  feast  of  bread  and  butter." 


CIPHERS.  17 

Mrs.  Ferris,  a  blooming  young  matron,  and  Miss 
Hurst,  a  mature  stylish  girl,  kissed  their  "  cousin 
Rutherford "  and  began  telling  what  a  success 
Milly  had  enjoyed.  Never  was  anything  like  it. 
Nobody  had  been  willing  to  take  time  to  eat  or 
drink.  Each  alike  had  had  eyes,  ears,  and  open 
mouths  only  to  watch,  listen  to,  and  gape  at 
Milly. 

"And  everybody  was  here,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Ferris  in  a  tone  of  heartfelt  satisfaction. 

"  Except  Mrs.  Bernard-North,"  said  Miss  Hurst 
with  a  note  of  woe  in  her  voice. 

"  But  then  Mrs.  Bernard-North  never  goes  to 
anybody's  receptions,"  Mrs.  Fletcher  explained 
soothingly. 

"  Which  is  a  great  advantage  to  anybody's  re- 
ception," said  Milly.  "  I  am  sure  that  I  for  one 
am  much  obliged  to  Mrs.  Bernard-North." 

"  She  intended  to  come  to-day,"  Whiley  Norreys, 
whose  aunt  Mrs.  Bernard-North  happened  to  be, 
hastened  to  interpose,  "  but  unfortunately  just  past 
noon  she  received  a  cable  despatch  announcing 
that  her  granddaughter  had  died  in  Paris  of  mea- 
sles, poor  little  thing." 

"Regular  memento  mori,  telegrams,  hate  'em 
like  poison,"  said  Mr.  Childe.  "  They  always  re- 
mind me  of  my  wife.  She  invariably  wired  on  the 
most  trivial  pretense,  and  I  finally  declined  to 
open  her  despatches.  In  fact,  when  the  news  of 
her  death  came  I  supposed  it  to  be  simply  some 
unnecessary  piece  of  interference  on  her  part,  so 


18  CIPHERS. 

flung  the  envelope  in  the  fire  and  never  heard 
what  had  happened  until  a  letter  came  a  fortnight 
afterwards." 

"  I  always  dread  opening  a  telegram  lest  it 
should  contain  some  upsetting  news,"  said  Mrs. 
Fletcher.  "  But  one  can't  put  off  opening  them, 
for  people  wire  nowadays  to  tell  you  they  cannot 
come  to  dinner,  —  they  even  invite  one  by  tele- 
graph. Highly  absurd,  I  think." 

Mrs.  Lee  Childe  had  moved  across  the  room  to 
speak  to  Breck.  His  face  struck  her  as  excep- 
tional. It  was  a  beautiful  boy's  face,  with  full 
forehead  and  temples,  rich  tints  and  brilliant  eyes. 
His  cheeks  were  smooth,  apparently  beardless  ;  his 
moustache  was  a  mere  line  of  brown,  and  turned 
up  slightly  at  the  ends  in  a  foreign  fashion.  There 
was  strength  and  decision  in  the  mouth  and  chin, 
but  the  impression  he  gave  was  of  an  ardent  alert 
vitality  and  a  readiness  to  absorb  impressions.  As 
she  approached  him  she  said  to  herself  that  he 
could  hardly  be  more  than  twenty. 

"  You  came  at  the  eleventh  hour,"  she  said  to 
him  ;  "  but  I  am  glad  to  see  you  at  my  little  tea." 

"  You  did  not  invite  me,"  stammered  Breck. 

Holly  Ruff  had  followed  the  hostess. 

"  I  met  Breck  at  the  corner,"  he  said,  "  and  he 
confided  to  me  that  he  was  never  at  a  fashionable 
tea.  I  told  him  I  would  enlarge  his  experience,  so 
brought  him,  trusting  to  your  magnanimity,  Mrs. 
Childe." 

She  smiled  at  Breck.     He  seemed  not  to  have 


CIPHERS.  19 

seen  her  smile  before.  "  Oh,  heavens !  "  he  said 
to  himself. 

"  I  don't  consider  myself  the  very  glass  of  fash- 
ion," she  remarked,  "  but  how  do  you  like  this 
affair  as  far  as  it  goes  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  thought  about  the  affair  yet,"  said 
Breck.  "  I  have  been  thinking  about  something 
else." 

"  I  want  to  give  a  tea  myself,  Mrs.  Childe,"  said 
Holly  Ruff,  and  he  at  once  proceeded  to  broach 
his  project.  Milly  listened,  then  going  back  to 
Mrs.  Fletcher  told  her  that  Mr.  Ruff  desired  them 
all  to  go  to  his  rooms  the  next  day. 

"Am  I  asked  ?"  inquired  Whiley  Norreys  in 
his  favorite  attitude,  his  hands  extended,  while  he 
bent  forward  with  his  head  a  little  on  one  side. 

Of  course  Whiley  Norreys  was  asked,  being  a 
person  whom  Holly  Ruff  tolerated  with  the  same 
sheer  contempt  with  which  he  tolerated  a  large 
proportion  of  the  human  race. 


n. 

AN  hour  later  Sidney  Breck  was  on  his  way  up- 
town to  fulfill  his  deferred  errand.  He  had  par- 
taken of  a  sort  of  high  tea  at  the  Childes',  then 
when  the  ladies  had  set  out  for  the  opera  he  had 
parted  from  Holly  Ruff  and  gone  on  as  if  in  a 
dream,  completely  under  the  charm  of  the  experi- 
ence. He  was  of  the  age  and  of  the  temperament 
which  take  vivid  impressions,  and  the  thought  of 
Mrs.  Childe  dominated  him.  He  knew  more  beau- 
tiful women ;  Miss  Rivera,  whom  he  was  now  on 
his  way  to  see,  possessed  more  actual  beauty,  but 
he  admired  Mrs.  Childe.  He  longed  to  study  the 
secret  of  her,  sitting,  watching,  and  listening  to 
her  for  a  month.  Certainly,  if  not  beautiful,  she 
had  points  of  rare  perfection.  He  longed  to  model 
her  head  and  neck  and  catch  the  trick  of  that  turn 
of  the  throat ;  there  was  something  wonderful 
about  that  pose, —  it  would  give  rare  distinction  to 
a  bust.  Not  that  Breck  was  a  sculptor ;  he  only 
dabbled  in  clay  occasionally  when  he  wished  to 
express  some  idea  that  haunted  him.  At  first  he 
had  been  struck  by  the  ease  with  which  Mrs. 
Childe  received  universal  homage.  There  was  an 
air  of  good-natured  amusement ;  her  smile  took  the 
edge  off  her  little  audacities.  His  first  impression 
had  been  that  she  was  too  cultured,  too  exotic  to 


CIPHERS.  21 

be  warmly  and  humanly  a  woman,  just  as  one  feels 
in  looking  at  an  orchid  that  it  is  not  simply  a 
flower.  Afterwards,  when  she  addressed  him,  let- 
ting her  smile  and  glance  linger  on  him,  he  had  re- 
ceived a  revelation  of  an  influence  sweet,  caressing, 
protecting,  something  purely  feminine.  He  knew 
little  and  cared  less  about  the  great  world.  He  won- 
dered, remembering  how  Holly  Ruff  had  boasted 
of  his  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Lee  Childe,  whether  the 
two  could  be  engaged.  He  was  in  the  habit  of 
looking  up  admiringly  to  Ruff,  who  had  befriended 
him.  Breck  was  not  a  New  Yorker  ;  he  had  been 
born  in  Boston,  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen  had 
gone  to  Paris  to  study  to  be  a  painter  ;  then  at  the 
age  of  twenty-two  had  returned  to  America  and 
settled  in  New  York,  taking  up  the  profession  of 
architect.  For  five  years  now  he  and  Ruff  had 
been  almost  like  brothers. 

Arriving  in  a  new  quarter  of  the  city,  Breck, 
on  leaving  the  train,  turned  into  a  street  attractive 
in  its  freshness,  and  ringing  at  the  entrance  of  a 
great  apartment  house  he  was  presently  knocking 
at  a  door  in  the  fifth  story.  He  was  admitted  on 
the  instant  by  a  bright  -  looking  little  woman, 
dressed  in  a  fantastic  tea-gown,  who  held  out  her 
hand  and  welcomed  him  cordially.  This  was  Mrs. 
Hugh  Rivera. 

"  Nita  is  at  home.  Indeed,  you  do  not  need  to 
be  told  that,"  she  said  in  response  to  his  inquiry, 
as  she  ushered  him  into  a  small  room  crowded  with 
tables,  elaborately  cushioned  chairs  and  divans, 


22  CIPHERS. 

hung  with  curtains  and  portieres,  while  the  walls 
were  covered  if  not  enriched  by  a  medley  of  plates, 
pictures,  and  fans.  Into  one  corner  was  crammed 
an  upright  piano,  and  before  the  instrument  sat  a 
girl  carelessly  striking  a  note  here  and  there  as  an 
accompaniment  to  "  Che  faro  senza  Eurydice  ?  " 
while  she  hummed  the  air  repeating  the  cry  "  Eury- 
dice" with  every  variety  of  passionate  inflection. 

44  Here  is  Mr.  Breck,  Anita,"  said  Mrs.  Rivera. 

The  girl  wheeled  on  the  music-stool  and  started 
up. 

44  Oh,  is  it  you  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  with  an  air  of 
intense  satisfaction.  "  I  was  just  trying  the  song 
you  sent  me." 

In  spite  of  the  intimate  salutation  the  two  bowed 
to  each  other  with  that  air  of  youthful  reserve 
which  betrays  a  fear  of  transgressing  polite  forms. 

"  I  have  brought  you  the  tickets  for  the  sym- 
phony concert,"  said  Breck.  "My  friend,  Mr. 
Ruff,  managed  to  get  them  for  me." 

Mrs.  Rivera,  after  hovering  for  a  moment  about 
the  parlor,  putting  minor  details  to  rights  with 
swift  birdlike  touches,  withdrew  to  the  adjoining 
compartment,  where  she  sat  down  anew  to  her  work 
within  call  of  her  three  children  asleep  in  an  inner 
room  of -the  crowded  little  flat. 

Breck  had  for  some  months  been  a  frequent 
visitor.  Hugh  Rivera  was  a  draughtsman  in  the 
office  of  Champion  &  Breck,  and  had  asked  the 
junior  partner  to  call  and  give  his  opinion  of  his 
sister's  voice,  for  Anita  was  just  entering  upon  the 


CIPHERS.  23 

study  of  music.  Breck  had  at  once  become  inter- 
ested in  the  girl,  who  was  beautiful,  full  of  artistic 
ambition,  and  thoroughly  discontented  with  her 
present  possibilities.  All  his  sympathies  were 
alert  at  this  glimpse  of  genius  groping  in  search  of 
its  true  aims. 

For  Miss  Rivera's  was  a  harp  of  many  strings, 
and  at  the  outset  it  had  been  no  easy  matter  to  de- 
cide which  of  her  five  talents  she  should  spend  and 
which  suffer  to  dwindle  under  a  napkin.  She  had 
primarily  decided  to  be  a  Mrs.  Browning,  and  had 
turned  off  hundreds  of  verses  deficient  only  in  those 
minor  requisites  of  technique  which  editors  with 
meagre-souled  sympathies  insist  upon  as  essential. 
A  few  disappointments  sufficed  to  prove  to  Anita 
that  appreciation  of  poetry  is  one  of  the  lost  arts, 
and  since  the  novel  is  the  true  vehicle  of  nineteenth 
century  thought  and  passion,  she  wrote  one  which 
was  to  run  through  a  hundred  editions.  Unluckily 
it  failed  to  do  so.  But  it  had  only  been  a  means 
to  an  end ;  what  she  had  aspired  to  do  was  to 
make  money  to  support  her  in  some  art-centre,  for 
she  was  now  determined  to  be  an  artist.  Her 
brother  opened  a  door  by  asking  her  to  live  with 
him,  and  accordingly,  two  years  before,  she  had 
come  to  New  York  with  a  portfolio  full  of  original 
sketches,  which  were  to  be  the  delight  of  the  mas- 
ters and  the  despair  of  her  fellow-students.  The 
committee  to  which  the  sketches  were  confided 
admitted  that  they  showed  talent,  but  was  unani- 
mous in  declaring  that  the  artist  had  not  been 


24  CIPHERS. 

taught  to  draw,  and  must  begin  with  a  full  course 
of  the  "  preparatory  antique."  The  "  preparatory 
antique  "  was  very  dull  for  Anita,  who  felt  warm 
blood  stirring  in  her  veins  and  longed  for  swift 
action  and  instantaneous  results. 

Probably  her  love  of  color  was  partly  a  matter 
of  temperament.  Her  grandfather,  a  native  of 
Porto  Rico,  the  descendant  of  a  French  nobleman, 
who  had  emigrated  during  the  revolution,  had 
been  sent  to  Northampton,  Massachusetts,  to  be 
educated,  and  had  married  in  that  place,  dying 
just  after  his  wife  gave  birth  to  a  son.  This  graft 
of  French  and  Spanish  blood  upon  New  England 
stock  had  been  an  almost  forgotten  incident  until 
in  the  second  generation  this  girl  was  born,  who 
alone  out  of  eight  children  was  endowed  with 
those  distinctive  attributes  of  physique,  tempera- 
ment, and  mind  which  we  call  foreign.  She  pos- 
sessed remarkable  beauty  with  all  the  rich  and 
delicate  coloring  of  a  French  Creole ;  long  eyes 
with  wonderful  lids,  superb  contours,  graceful 
movement,  hands  and  feet  after  a  rare  model,  and 
besides  these  physical  endowments,  ardent  artistic 
tastes,  a  pliancy  to  artistic  impressions,  and  an  in- 
tense ambition  to  conquer  the  world  by  her  gifts. 
She  liked  to  paint,  but  she  soon  heartily  detested 
the  "  preparatory  antique,"  and  declared  she  saw 
neither  logic  nor  reason  in  sitting  down  before  and 
worshiping  a  hideous  plaster  foot  without  a  single 
curve  of  beauty  in  it.  Her  fellow  pupils  shrugged 
their  shoulders  at  her  work  and  occasionally  tried 


CIPHERS.  25 

to  set  her  right,  but  the  masters  were  merciless ; 
all  she  did  was  declared  to  be  out  of  proportion, 
out  of  plumb ;  she  had  no  feeling  for  the  outline. 

At  this  moment,  when  she  was  crushed  with  the 
mortification  of  her  defeat,  it  happened  that  Con- 
tarini,  a  fashionable  music-master,  heard  her  sing 
a  little  German  ballad,  and,  struck  by  the  richness 
and  dramatic  quality  of  her  voice,  he  asked  her  to 
become  his  pupil  for  a  few  months,  that  he  might 
decide  what  possibilities  lay  behind  that  fine  mid- 
dle register.  At  the  end  of  three  months  he  be- 
sought her  to  go  on  for  a  year,  —  two  years.  It 
was  a  labor  of  love  to  teach  her  ;  it  was,  besides, 
a  religious  duty  to  foster  so  beautiful  a  talent. 

Anita  felt  in  herself  that  strength  of  youth  which 
makes  it  seem  an  easy  matter  to  mould  one's  des- 
tiny. Emerson  observes  that  we  must  read  history 
actively  and  not  passively,  considering  our  own 
lives  the  text  and  this  the  commentary,  and  she  had 
always  obeyed  this  behest  implicitly.  "  Shall  I 
write  poems  like  Mrs.  Browning's  or  Jean  Inge- 
low's  ?  —  novels  after  the  example  of  George  Eliot 
or  the  author  of  Jane  Eyre  ?  Shall  I  be  a  female 
Millet  or  Meissonier?" 

Thus  when  Signer  Contarini  told  her  that  she 
possessed  a  mezzo-soprano  voice  of  unusual  com- 
pass and  flexibility,  and  of  a  timbre  almost  un- 
known since  Garcia  retired  from  the  stage,  and 
that  all  she  required  was  patient  and  docile  study, 
Anita  instantly  decided  that  the  mantle  of  Patti, 
which  of  necessity  must  one  day  fall,  should  de- 


26  CIPHERS. 

scend  upon  her  own  shoulders.  Of  course  she  had 
lost  time,  —  she  was  now  about  twenty-one  years  of 
age,  but  lost  time  could  be  made  up  by  working 
with  superhuman  energy.  This  past  summer  she 
had  been  studying  under  Contarini's  direction  in 
the  little  mountain  nook  where  he  made  his  villeg- 
giatura.  He  had  been  very  sanguine  when  he  un- 
dertook the  enterprise  of  developing  Miss  Rivera 
into  a  great  cantatrice.  He  was  still  sanguine,  but 
he  clearly  recognized  the  fact  that  there  were  lions 
in  the  path.  Anita's  voice  showed  the  rarest  pos- 
sibilities ;  the  fault,  strange  to  say,  was  of  the  ear. 
This  fault  he  had  felt  certain  he  might,  by  indefati- 
gable training,  correct.  He  had  watched,  tested, 
experimented,  finally  believed  that  he  understood 
the  secret  of  it.  It  lay,  partly,  he  declared,  in  the 
conflict  of  the  two  temperaments :  that  is  to  say, 
when  she  sang  false,  it  was  a  matter  of  physique, 
intellect,  nerves,  —  above  all,  nerves.  What  she 
lacked  was  discipline,  —  the  discipline  resulting 
from  a  single  intense  dominating  idea.  Her  will 
was  like  a  wind  blowing  where  it  listeth,  delighting 
in  its  vagaries  and  exulting  in  its  chimeras.  When 
she  slept  well,  kept  herself  fresh,  did  not  over-eat 
or  strain  her  powers  in  any  way,  — above  all,  when 
she  was  serenely  happy,  she  sang  like  an  angel. 
The  one  thing  necessary  was  to  keep  her  single- 
hearted,  happy,  and  well. 

Sidney  Breck,  himself  an  ardent  lover  of  music, 
with  a  faultless  ear,  had  never  been  over-sanguine 
concerning  Miss  Rivera's  chances.  But  he  had 


CIPHERS.  27 

gone  through  his  own  hard  struggle,  and  knew 
something  about  artistic  cravings  for  free  play  for 
one's  powers,  and  she  interested  him.  The  belief 
was  sometimes  forced  upon  him  that  she  was  hope- 
lessly wrong  in  her  choice  of  a  career.  But  a 
girl's  failure  is  not  so  tragical  as  a  man's  failure, 
since  a  happy  marriage  may  more  than  make  it  up 
to  her.  When  he  sometimes  said  to  himself,  "  She 
never  can  be  the  great  singer  she  is  ambitious  to 
be,"  he  half  smiled,  for  many  thoughts  drift 
through  the  mind  of  a  young  fellow. 

"  Whether  I  can  sing  for  you  to-night,  Mr. 
Breck,  I  do  not  know,"  said  Anita.  "  I  wish  you 
could  have  been  with  me  this  afternoon.  Mr. 
Contarini  lost  his  head  entirely.  I  heard  him 
jumping  about  while  I  was  singing,  and  was  afraid 
at  first  that  he  was  tearing  his  hair  over  a  false 
note,  and  presently  would  fall  upon  me  and  rend 
me  in  pieces.  But  no;  when  I  finished  he  clapped 
his  hands.  '  You  shall  go  to  Paris,  to  Milan,  for 
one,  two,  tree  years,'  said  he.  '  But  fairst  you  shall 
show  zem  here  in  New  York  what  I  can  do.  I  will 
take  a  hall,  —  I  will  take  ze  opera-house,  I  will 
hire  ze  orchestra,  —  I  care  not  for  ze  aixpense,  I 
will  pay  ten  t'ousand  dollar,  but  you  shall  be 
brought  out  in  New  York  and  show  them  what  I 
have  done,  what  I  can  do.' ' 

"I  am  delighted,"  said  Breck  in  a  glow  of  exul- 
tation. 

"  But  to-morrow,"  pursued  Anita,  "  very  likely 
he  may  be  in  a  different  mood,  and  just  when  I 


28  CIPHERS. 

am  gathering  myself  up  for  it,  I  shall  hear  him 
fling  over  a  chair,  then  he  will  jump  on  a  sofa  as 
if  he  meant  to  break  its  every  spring,  and  he  will 
put  his  fingers  in  his  ears  and  say,  '  Oh,  ze  mighty, 
ze  zounds,  ze  sacr-r-r-rr  ! ' : 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  you  are  over  the  threshold  now.  You 
do  well  to-day  and  you  will  do  better  to-morrow." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Anita,  with  a  little  nod  and 
smile  ;  "  but  I  do  wish,  Mr.  Breck,  you  had  heard 
me  this  afternoon.  Mr.  Contarini  told  me  when  I 
came  away  that  I  was  sailing  off  into  the  blue, 
that  he  must  hold  fast  to  the  tail  of  the  kite  lest  I 
should  escape  him  altogether." 

"  I  started  to  come  here  at  five  o'clock,"  said 
Breck,  "but  just  as  I  was  leaving  the  house  Holly 
Ruff  went  past,  and  as  he  was  going  to  a  great  re- 
ception "  — 

"  Mrs.  Lee  Childe's  ?  "  asked  Anita  eagerly. 

•'  Oh,  you  know  her  then  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no,  I  know  nobody  in  New  York ;  but 
Maddy  and  I  always  read  the  society  news,  and 
we  saw  that  she  was  to  have  a  reception  to-day." 

"  Maddy,"  otherwise  Mrs.  Hugh  Rivera,  repre- 
sented to  Breck  all  that  he  wished  a  woman  to 
avoid. 

"  I  suppose  everything  is  in  the  papers,"  he  re- 
marked with  a  shrug ;  "  but  why  when  there  is 
anything  else  to  read  one  should  occupy  one's  self 
with  stuff  of  that  sort,  —  at  least,  when  it  does  not 
personally  concern  one,  —  I  can't  understand." 

"  It  does  concern  me,"  said  Anita.     "  It  gives 


CIPHERS.  29 

me  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  besides,  I  say  to 
myself  that  there  will  come  a  time  when  the  pa- 
pers will  be  full  of  paragraphs  about  me." 

"  All  right,"  said  Breck,  throwing  back  his  head 
and  laughing ;  "  I  promise  to  read  all  they  say 
about  you." 

"But  about  Mrs.  Lee  Childe's  reception?" 
questioned  Anita.  "  The  papers  said  she  was  only 
twenty-six  years  old,  a  widow,  and  worth  millions 
upon  millions." 

"  Twenty-six,  —  yes,  I  should  have  said  she  was 
about  that  age,"  murmured  Breck. 

"  Did  you  go  with  Mr.  Ruff  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  is  always  like  the  centurion,  and 
when  he  says  '  come,'  I  come,  and  when  he  says 
'  go,'  I  go." 

"Was  it  delightful?" 

"  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  is  delightful.  If  you  think 
you  ever  saw  a  perfectly  charming  woman  just  dis- 
miss that  idea  and  get  another.  Nothing  less  than 
Mrs.  Lee  Childe  is  charming." 

"  But  why  is  she  so  charming  ?  Is  she  so  beau- 
tiful?" 

"  Beautiful  ?  I  don't  know  whether  she  is  pos- 
itively beautiful." 

"  Was  she  exquisitely  dressed  ?  " 

"  Dressed  ?     Oh,  no  doubt ;  I  did  not  observe." 

"  Was  the  house  beautiful  ?  " 

"  I  only  noticed  the  library,  which  was  large 
and  quiet." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  have  brought  away  very 
clear  ideas,"  said  Anita. 


30  CIPHERS. 

"  One  does  not  sum  up  a  woman  like  that  in  a 
sentence,"  said  Breck.  "  It  may  be  art,  but  it  is 
such  consummate  art  it  seems  like  nature.  When 
I  first  heard  her  talking  to  a  crowd  of  men  I  was 
afraid  she  ran  after  brilliance  too  much,  but  I  saw 
afterwards  that  she  is  really  more  simple,  more 
natural,  more  direct  than  other  people." 

Anita  gave  him  a  bright  glance,  but  his  words 
had  reminded  her  of  something  else. 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you,"  she  remarked,  "  that  when 
I  went  in  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Contarini  said  '  You 
weel  sing  well  to-day.'  Afterwards  he  explained 
what  he  meant."  She  jumped  up  and  with  raised 
forefinger  mimicked  the  Italian.  "  '  You  do  not 
look  so  praity  as  usual.  You  are  not  so  neat, 
so  well-dressed.  You  have  not  been  finking 
about  yourself  to-day,  but  about  your  music.  Ze 
troot'  is,  Mees  Rivera,  ze  coquette  in  you  too 
often  spoils  ze  artiste.  Zere  is  war  between  ze 
real  and  ze  ideal.  You  geeve  your  best  am-bee- 
she-on  not  to  your  art,  but  to  your  gown,  your 
gloves,  your  shoes.' " 

'•  The  impertinent  puppy !  Does  he  constitute 
himself  your  father-confessor  ?  " 

"  Indeed  he  does.  He  is  forever  telling  me 
there  are  four  things  absolutely  required  to  make 
a  good  voice :  the  throat,  the  stomach,  the  heart, 
the  brains.  He  says  I  cannot  be  a  great  singer 
unless  I  am  a  good  woman  and  a  great  woman  and 
a  well  woman  ;  that  I  must  be  willing  to  fast  like 
a  knight  before  he  goes  into  battle  for  the  first 
time." 


CIPHERS.  31 

"  That  is  true  enough.  Life  is  a  perpetual  fast 
and  vigil  for  anybody  who  wishes  to  accomplish 
anything  in  this  world." 

"  I  do  not  need  to  confess  my  sins,  for  he  sees 
through  me  invariably,"  pursued  Miss  Rivera. 
"  He  finds  out  all  my  little  evasions  of  duty.  He 
knows  that  I  do  all  sorts  of  things  to  make  money ; 
that  when  I  ought  to  be  resting  after  using  my 
voice  I  am  painting  sachets  and  pin-cushions  and 
decorating  menus  and  dinner  cards." 

"  You  ought  not  to  attempt  that  outside  work. 
It  takes  away  your  devotion  to  your  prime  object." 

"  But  I  must  have  some  money.  They  send  me 
only  two  hundred  a  year  from  home.  They  can 
hardly  spare  that.  Besides,  I  like  to  do  those 
pretty  things."  Starting  up,  she  crossed  the  room 
with  her  light,  pretty  movement,  and,  opening  a 
drawer,  brought  a  handful  of  cards  and  bits  of  silk 
and  satin,  on  which  she  had  sketched  in  pure  pale 
shades  of  color  a  bough  of  leaves  and  flowers 
straggling  across  a  corner,  a  cluster  of  peach  blos- 
soms, or  other  affectations  of  Japanese  art  bor- 
rowed from  the  fan  and  the  cup. 

"  Very  pretty,  very  pretty  indeed,"  said  Breck, 
hastily.  "  You  color  very  well." 

"  Those  are  all  done  without  any  models,  with  a 
few  strokes  of  the  brush,"  said  Anita  in  triumph. 

"  Beware  of  the  conventional,"  he  murmured. 

"  That  is  why  I  follow  the  Japanese  school," 
said  Anita.  "  It  is  wholly  unconventional." 

He  laughed,  but  did  not  reply,  and  said  pres- 
ently, — 


32  CIPHERS. 

"All  the  same  you  must  reflect  that  one  has 
only  so  much  strength,  and  that  for  success  in 
any  career  one  must  concentrate  all  one's  powers 
and  faculties." 

"  As  soon  as  I  am  launched  I  shall  have  plenty 
of  money,  and  there  will  be  no  need  of  such  pot- 
boilers," she  returned.  "  I  shall  not  be  compelled 
to  eke  out  my  supply  of  handkerchiefs  by  washing 
them  myself  and  drying  them  on  a  pin.  I  shall 
not  have  to  mend  my  gloves  endlessly." 

"  I  know  the  look  Contarini  likes  to  see  in  your 
face,"  said  Breck  ;  "  it  is  that  not  of  a  pretty,  self- 
conscious  girl,  but  of  a  priestess  just  off  her  tripod 
and  all  alive  with  her  inspiration." 

"  What  chance  have  I  to  feel  inspiration  here  ?  " 
said  Anita.  She  was  standing  before  her  visitor ; 
and  now,  glancing  into  the  next  room  and  discover- 
ing that  it  was  empty,  in  a  low  voice  but  with  pas- 
sionate vehemence  she  poured  out  the  story  of  her 
hindrances  and  vexations.  "  I  cannot  even  prac- 
tice in  peace.  Sometimes  the  children  are  left  for 
hours  under  my  sole  charge,  and  even  when  Madcly 
is  here  she  thinks  there  can  be  no  harm  in  their 
running  in  and  out.  I  am  cramped  and  thwarted 
in  every  way.  I  sometimes  wonder  that  I  can  sing 
at  all,  I  am  so  irritated,  so  bored,  so  depressed. 
Good  conditions  are  essential  to  good  art.  Artists 
ought  not  to  be  obliged  to  live  with  their  families." 

"You  may  have  heard  how  Patti  and  Mali- 
bran  "  — 

"  That  was  musical  education.     All  that  they 


CIPHERS.  33 

had  to  bear  was  in  the  line  of  artistic  discipline, 
progress,  development.  But  when  one's  nearest 
relations  are  actually  indifferent  to  one's  chief  ob- 
jects, when  family  life  means  worry,  sordid  econo- 
mies, scrimped  meals,  —  for  Mr.  Contarini  says  I 
require  to  be  well  fed  with  good  soups  and  juicy 
meats  "  — 

"  You  do  not  look  as  if  you  suffered  from  any 
meagre,  hunger -bitten  diet,"  interposed  Breck, 
laughing.  "  I  have  often  told  you  you  should 
leave  bonbons  alone." 

She  shook  her  finger  at  him  archly. 

"  I  know,"  he  conceded,  "  that  twice  I  tempted 
you,  but  that  was  before  I  realized  that  a  singer 
can  put  an  enemy  into  her  mouth  which  steals 
away  her  voice.  I  shall  never  tempt  you  in  that 
way  again." 

"  I  shall  not  be  tempted.  Henceforth  I  promise 
to  devote  myself  to  art.  If  I  do  not  succeed  it 
will  be  art  itself  that  is  ungrateful." 

"  You  are  too  impatient.  You  expect  to  accom- 
plish miracles.  Nowadays  miracles  only  follow 
tedious  processes." 

"  But  I  am  almost  twenty-one,  and  a  singer's 
lease  of  power  is  so  short.  Nature  herself  fixes  a 
limit,  and  after  a  woman  is  thirty-five  she  has  lost 
something.  Think  of  it,  only  fourteen  or  fifteen 
years  for  me  !  How  much  has  to  be  put  into  that 
time!" 

Breck  listened,  half  touched,  half  amused.  She 
was  so  young  and  so  pretty,  and  her  earnestness 


34  CIPHERS. 

deepened  her  beauty  and  her  charm.  And  possi- 
bly after  all  she  would  realize  all  her  dreams. 
There  was  somewhere,  somehow,  a  touch  of  genius 
in  the  girl,  and  although  she  made  mistakes  there 
was  none  of  the  crude  stumbling  of  the  tyro  in 
anything  she  attempted.  And  although  medioc- 
rities sometimes  have  everything  their  own  way  for 
a  time,  genius  knows  how  to  hold  its  own,  when  it 
does  really  exist.  Perhaps  the  chief  stumbling- 
block  in  the  way  of  Breck's  belief  in  her  ultimate 
success  was  the  fact  that  Miss  Rivera's  love  for  art 
rested  as  it  were  on  her  love  for  herself. 

"  Don't  let  us  forget  music  in  the  musician,"  he 
said  finally.  "  I  want  you  to  try  'Che  faro.'  " 

"  I  hardly  think  it  suits  my  voice,"  returned 
Anita. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  dozen  great  songs  of  the 
world.  It  is  a  pleasure  even  to  hear  it  sung 
badly." 

"  Oh,  thanks.  If  you  expect  me  to  sing  it  badly 
it  is  safe  to  disappoint  you  by  not  singing  it  at 
all." 

He  nevertheless  prevailed  upon  her  to  try  the 
aria,  which  she  did  sing  so  badly  that  she  was  in- 
dignant with  him. 

"  I  told  you,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  it  was  of  no 
use  for  me  to  attempt  it.  Mr.  Contarini  would  be 
displeased  to  hear  that  I  gave  way  to  anybody's 
urgency  when  I  knew  that  I  might  fail.  He  says  a 
voice  is  not  a  machine.  One  must  not  fight  against 
nature." 


CIPHERS.  35 

"  Of  course  he  is  right,"  said  Breck,  amused  by 
the  spirit  with  which  the  girl  turned  upon  him  to 
rend  him  for  her  own  failure.  "  But  I  am  always 
longing  to  hear  certain  songs,  and  some  of  them 
are  hard  to  sing  and  nobody  sings  them.  Music 
is  unlike  all  the  other  arts ;  there  must  always  be 
an  interpreter.  Just  think  what  it  is  to  have  the 
'  Adelaide  '  voiceless,  forgotten  !  Who  sings  the 
'Pieta  Signore  '  nowadays?  Certain  songs  haunt 
me,  waylay  me,  seem  to  call  upon  me  to  deliver 
them  from  the  darkness  and  silence." 

He  pulled  himself  up  and  pretended  to  laugh  at 
his  own  earnestness. 

"  I  cannot  sing  the  old  songs  now, 
It  is  not  that  I  deem  them  low ; 
'T  is  that  I  can't  remember  how 
They  go," 

he  quoted  comically,  "  Not  however  that  Calverley 
told  the  truth,  for  nobody  who  ever  in  his  life 
loved  a  song  can  forget  it." 

A  sudden  wish  assailed  him  himself  to  sing 
"  Che  faro  senza  Eurydice,  f  "  and  with  a  laughing 
glance  at  Anita,  he  took  the  seat  from  which  she 
had  just  risen,  struck  the  opening  notes  with  a 
firm  free  touch,  then  sang  through  the  aria  in  a 
mellow  tenor  voice. 

She  gazed  at  him  in  astonishment,  even  inter- 
rupting him  in  one  of  the  pauses  of  the  air  to  ex- 
claim, — 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  you  could  sing." 

He  went  on  to  the  end  without  seeming  to  hear 
her. 


36  CIPHERS. 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  could  sing,  Mr.  Breck,"  she 
reiterated.  "  You  have  a  wonderful  voice.  It  was 
unkind  to  deceive  me  in  this  way." 

"  Deceived  you  ?  Did  I  ever  tell  you  I  did  not 
sing  ?  But  then  I  never  do  sing  nowadays  except 
perhaps  to  hum  an  air  while  I  am  dressing.  I 
have  not  sung  in  this  way  for  years." 

"  But  your  voice  is  a  delightful  one." 

"  Nonsense  !  I  have  never  had  any  training.  I 
have  an  intense  love  for  music,  but  my  mother  dis- 
couraged it,  objecting  to  my  becoming  '  a  musical 
man,'  as  she  expressed  it.  So  I  sing  without 
knowledge,  just  as  I  play,  catching  everything  by 
ear  alone.  Now  that  we  are  talking  about  it,  Miss 
Rivera,"  he  went  on  laughing,  for  it  had  excited 
him  to  sing,  "  I  will  tell  you  something  I  never 
even  told  Alice.  When  I  came  to  New  York  six 
years  ago  I  was  rather  a  broken-hearted  fellow,  for 
I  had  given  up  painting  and  tied  myself  down  to 
what  seemed  then  the  veriest  drudgery.  It  was  in 
the  summer  time,  and  I  was  getting  a  home  ready 
for  my  sister,  who  had  just  lost  her  husband  and 
her  three  children  ;  but  meanwhile  they  were  in  the 
country,  and  I  was  quite  alone  and  hardly  knew  a 
soul  in  New  York.  The  weather  was  excessively 
hot,  and  in  the  evenings  the  people  who  were  stay- 
ing in  town  used  to  gather  on  the  steps  of  their 
houses  to  catch  the  coolness  of  the  river  breezes. 
Remember  that  I  was  only  twenty-two,  a  crazy 
youngster !  But  I  used  to  assume  a  sort  of  dis- 
guise and  sing  about  the  streets.  After  a  few 


CIPHERS.  37 

nights  I  was  expected  and  waited  for.  *  Oh,  there 
he  is ! '  I  would  hear  them  say.  At  first  they 
wanted  to  give  me  money,  but  I  replied  in  Italian 
gibberish  that  I  did  not  sing  for  pay,  only  for  love 
of  music." 

"You  ought  to  have  been  a  musician,  Mr. 
Breck,"  said  Anita  with  conviction. 

"  Contarini  would  tell  you  that  I  am  all  wrong: 
that  I  open  my  mouth  the  wrong  way,  that  it  is 
not  a  voice  at  all  but  a  trumpet  through  the  nose, 
or  a  broken  pipe.  Moreover,  I  have  not  a  strong 
throat,  and  could  never  have  been  a  professional. 
Above  all,  I  had  to  bone  down  to  some  good  pay- 
ing work  and  earn  some  money." 

"  You  ought  to  have  told  me  you  could  sing," 
said  Anita  with  feeling.  "  I  thought  I  knew  you 
so  well,  when  after  all  I  did  not  know  you  at  all." 
"  You  know  everything  now,"  said  Breck. 
"  That  is  the  '  finis '  at  the  end  of  my  story,  so  you 
may  as  well  forgive  me." 

"  I  forgive  you,"  Miss  Rivera  granted,  yielding 
her  little  hand  to  him.  "  And  I  am  willing  to 
confess  besides  that  you  sang  charmingly." 

Breck  took  his  leave,  and  on  his  way  down  town 
thought  over  the  girl's  naive  self-confessions,  her 
little  tempers ;  and  perhaps,  too,  he  shrewdly  put 
his  finger  on  a  want  of  sympathy  in  her  character 
from  the  way  she  had  received  his  little  story.  He 
recalled  Garcia's  saying,  "  D'abord,  je  suis  femme, 
avec  les  affections,  les  devoirs,  les  idees  d'une 
femme  ;  d'apres,  je  suis  artiste."  Very  pretty ;  and 


38  CIPHERS. 

of  course  in  a  way  a  woman  must  postpone  every- 
thing to  fulfill  the  sacred  duties  of  life  before  she 
permits  art  to  dictate  to  her.  Yet  in  a  different  way 
women  are  apt  to  put  the  woman  before  the  artist. 
He  recalled  feminine  rivalries  in  Parisian  ateliers, 
and  was  ready  to  indulge  in  masculine  cynicisms 
regarding  the  rebellious  egotisms  of  the  fair  sex. 
Then  taking  a  fairer  view,  he  acknowledged  that 
even  men  did  not  invariably  succeed  in  fusing  self 
in  the  artist. 

As  he  crossed  the  streets  to  his  lodging,  "  Eury- 
dice  "  was  still  ringing  in  his  ears,  but  his  thoughts 
had  returned  to  Mrs.  Lee  Childe.  It  struck  him 
as  a  coincidence  that  his  room  was  just  round  the 
corner  from  the  old  Childe  mansion,  which  faced 
Stuyvesant  Square.  Nothing  could  be  more  sim- 
ple and  natural  than  to  stroll  on  and  look  up  at 
the  windows.  The  full  moon  flooded  the  whole 
place  with  light.  It  was  the  Indian  summer,  and 
the  air  was  balmy  with  breezes  just  stirring  the 
tops  of  the  trees,  causing  the  shimmer  of  moonlight 
to  tremble  like  a  sheet  of  water  ruffled  by  a  sudden 
disturbance.  A  soft  stifled  murmur  rose  and  fell 
like  a  regular  breath.  Breck  felt  the  beauty  of 
the  night,  the  outside  silence  of  the  great  city,  the 
stir  of  life  within  the  heart  of  it.  The  romantic 
passion  of  the  song  still  thrilled  him.  Why  might 
he  not  sing  it  ?  He  leaned  against  the  paling  and 
looked  up  at  the  house,  where  lights  burned  in 
the  upper  windows.  She  was  probably  there,  and 
he  resigned  himself  to  the  impulse  which  half 


CIPHERS.  39 

an    hour   later  he   was   ready  to   regard    as  an 

insanity. 

"  Chefa/ro"  he  began;  when  his  voice  was  dying 
on  the  final  note  he  became  aware  that  the  draw- 
ing-room window  was  open  and  that  some  one  was 
standing  within  a  few  feet  of  him. 

"  Please  sing  that  again,"  a  voice  said  eagerly. 
"  Oh,  I  beg  you  to  sing  that  again." 

Breck's  self-possession,  his  manners,  his  very 
senses  seemed  suspended  by  the  sudden  tremor 
which  seized  him.  He  turned  and  fled,  vanishing 
out  of  the  pale  motionless  flood  of  moonlight  into 
the  black  opaque  shadows. 


III. 


HOLLY  RUFF  had  hardly  exaggerated  his  unique 
claim  to  Mrs.  Lee  Childe's  friendship  when  he 
told  Sidney  Breck  that  no  one  else  had  enjoyed 
so  long  and  intimate  an  acquaintance  with  her. 
Emily  Pardee,  the  only  daughter  of  the  famous 
Dr.  Pardee,  had,  early  in  life,  married  a  lawyer 
named  Arthur  Briggs,  partner  of  Holly  Ruff's  fa- 
ther. The  little  Emily  was  not  born  until  her 
parents  had  reached  middle  age,  and  when  she  was 
five  years  old. her  father  died.  His  partner  con- 
tinued to  transact  Mrs.  Briggs's  more  personal  af- 
fairs, and  when  Mr.  Ruff  in  his  turn  died,  it  fell  to 
his  son  Holly  to  be  of  use  to  the  rich  and  lonely 
woman,  whose  life  was  given  up  chiefly  to  chari- 
table enterprises.  When  Emily  lost  her  mother 
Holly  Ruff  was  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  Mrs. 
Briggs  had  implored  him  to  continue  his  good  ser- 
vices to  the  orphaned  girl.  A  young  man  can  do 
little  for  a  young  woman  of  sixteen  except  to  fall 
in  love  with  her  and  marry  her.  This  Holly  Ruff 
was  just  making  up  his  mind  to  be  the  right  course 
for  him  to  pursue,  when  Mrs.  Rutherford  Chilcle 
forestalled  him  by  taking  possession  of  the  little 
heiress.  Emily  Briggs  was  at  this  time  at  the 


CIPHERS.  41 

great  boarding-school  of  Mine.  Segur,  just  outside 
New  York,  and  it  was  Mme.  Segur  herself  who 
happened  to  tell  Mrs.  Childe  about  the  rich  young 
girl  under  her  charge,  who  was  eating  out  her  heart 
in  grief  for  her  mother.  Mrs.  Childe  had  once 
been  associated  with  Mrs.  Briggs  in  some  charita- 
ble effort ;  thus  it  was  a  graceful  and  natural  atten- 
tion to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Emily,  and  bring 
her  to  her  home  for  Sundays  and  other  holidays. 
She  took  the  young  girl  to  drive,  to  flower-shows, 
to  concerts,  to  see  the  animals  at  the  Park,  and 
when  the  right  moment  came  she  married  her  to 
her  son  Lee. 

Ruff  acknowledged  to  himself  that  he  had  been 
a  laggard  in  love,  for  he  had  had  a  year's  start  of 
Mrs.  Rutherford  Childe.  But  he  philosophically 
decided  that  after  all  it  was  better  not  to  have 
hampered  his  career  by  the  weight  of  the  Pardee 
millions.  Indeed,  it  was  only  when  Emily  Briggs 
became  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  that  he  found  out  she  was 
charming.  Ruff  established  himself  as  her  family 
friend  during  her  husband's  lifetime,  and  after 
Lee's  death  he  continued  his  habit  of  going  to  the 
house  and  was  admitted  to  Mr.  Rutherford  Childe's 
small  and  exclusive  family  circle.  During  these 
four  years  of  her  widowhood  Milly  came  and 
went,  sometimes  staying  but  a  night,  again  settling 
down  with  her  father-in-law  for  a  month.  Only 
Mrs.  Fletcher  and  a  few  others  of  the  Childe  con- 
nection succeeded  in  seeing  her;  for  everybody  else 
who  inquired  for  her  at  the  door  the  stereotyped 


42  CIPHERS. 

formula  went  forth:  "Mrs.  Lee  Childe  is  not  at 
home,"  "  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  does  not  receive  at  pres- 
ent," or,  "  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  is  staying  in  the  coun- 
try." 

Ruff  easily  kept  himself  informed  of  the  young 
widow's  comings  and  goings,  and  without  any  sus- 
picion of  intrusion,  was  always  certain  to  see  her 
even  if  she  just  passed  through  the  town,  stopping 
only  for  a  night.  He  made  himself  usef ul  to  her 
in  certain  ways,  giving  her  lists  of  forthcoming 
books,  for  she  was  an  omnivorous  reader,  and  talk- 
ing over  with  her  those  she  had  already  read.  He 
soon  not  only  grew  to  understand  her  tastes,  but  in 
a  way  helped  to  shape  them.  Once  they  encoun- 
tered abroad,  and  visited  picture  galleries  together 
both  in  Florence  and  Venice.  He  could  easily  flat- 
ter himself  that  he  had  made  himself  useful  to 
her,  —  more  than  useful,  agreeable.  What  he 
longed  for  was  to  make  himself  essential. 

The  day  of  the  reception  he  laughed  in  his 
sleeve  at  the  pretensions  of  the  men  whom  with 
quiet  jealous  instinct  he  recognized  as  rival  suitors. 
By  this  time  he  knew  Milly  Childe's  likings  and 
dislikings  by  heart.  She  possessed  a  capacity  for 
getting  some  amusement  out  of  all  sorts  of  people ; 
but  at  the  same  time  a  power  of  satire,  which,  even 
if  she  habitually  kept  it  within  bounds,  sometimes 
escaped  her  in  caustic  wit.  She  hated  a  bore, 
she  hated  a  man  who  veered  and  tacked  and  tacked 
and  veered,  and  of  course  she  would  not  like 
Whiley  Norreys.  Paul  Secor  was  a  spoiled  and 


CIPHERS.  43 

superficial  creature,  who,  if  he  had  any  heart 
left  after  his  gay  youth,  had  long  since  bestowed  it 
on  Georgy  Hurst,  whom  he  was  too  poor  to  marry. 
Archy  Laing  was  a  mere  dancing  man,  while 
Geddes  Poorshaw,  with  the  physique  of  a  pugilist, 
and  brusque,  direct  manners,  which  seemed  to  dis- 
close his  innate  tendency  to  assume  that  the  world 
belonged  to  him,  had  nothing  to  recommend  him 
to  a  woman  of  heart  and  intellect  except  his  name 
and  his  money.  Of  money,  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  always 
had  enough  and  to  spare,  and  she  was  likely  to 
insist  on  other  qualifications  in  a  second  husband. 

Who  then  remained  as  a  possible,  a  probable, 
an  inevitable  choice  for  the  young  and  lovely 
widow?  Holly  Ruff  remained.  Looking  at  the 
subject  dispassionately,  he  could  assure  himself 
that  he  answered  her  every  need.  He  was 
exactly  of  the  right  age,  twelve  years  her  senior. 
He  had  made  a  career  for  himself  as  a  journalist 
and  literary  man.  In  fact  he,  and  he  alone,  pos- 
sessed just  the  prestige  which  could  give  meaning 
to  her  millions. 

He  piqued  himself  on  the  unerring  tact  with 
which  he  had  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  made 
up  his  smart  and  exclusive  little  party.  Mrs. 
Childe  had  once  remarked  that  she  was  ambitious 
to  climb  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  tall  structures 
which  command  a  view  of  the  bay,  and  he  had  said 
he  should  enjoy  showing  her  his  own  quarters  in 
the  Phoenix  Building,  and  prompted  by  this  recol- 
lection he  had  pressed  his  invitation  at  an  auspi- 
cious moment. 


44  CIPHERS. 

He  had  entertained  ladies  before,  and  under- 
stood the  fastidious  requisitions  of  the  fair  sex  as 
well  as  did  David  Copperfield  when  he  provided 
the  bottle  of  lavender  water,  two  wax-candles,  a 
paper  of  mixed  pins,  and  a  pin -cushion  for  Mrs. 
Micawber's  comfort.  In  accordance  with  more 
modern  requirements  Ruff  had  ordered  in  a  profu- 
sion of  palms  and  chrysanthemums,  while  masses 
of  cut  roses  were  set  about  in  bowls. 

Little  more  was  needed  for  the  general  equip- 
ment of  the  rooms ;  their  design,  furnishings,  and 
decorations  included  everything  that  the  most 
artistic  fancy  could  suggest.  They  were  the 
rooms  of  a  very  highly  civilized  man,  Ruff  had 
sometimes  remarked  with  complacency,  but  then 
he  was  ready  to  explain  that  Sidney  Breck  had 
been  the  sole  designer  and  afterwards  his  own 
coadjutor  in  the  arrangement.  It  was  his  habit  to 
make  "  the  youngster  "  useful,  and  to-day  Breck 
was  deputed  to  meet  the  ladies  on  their  arrival 
and  to  escort  them  by  way  of  the  elevator  to  the 
top  of  the  building.  The  host  himself  sat  at  his 
desk  working  until  the  last  moment.  He  was 
always  working,  anywhere  and  anyhow,  without 
fussiness  or  apparent  effort.  Not  to  have  worked 
would  have  been  to  lose  time,  and  to  lose  time  was 
not  only  to  lose  money  but  his  knack  of  keeping 
abreast  with  the  full  movement  of  the  day,  chroni- 
cling not  only  the  doings  of  the  moment  but  the 
prophetic  meanings  of  the  moment,  so  that  each  com- 
ing event  seemed  to  have  taken  shape  and  gathered 


CIPHERS.  45 

force  logically  and  in  order  from  his  predictions. 
He  was  now  writing  rapidly  in  a  stiff,  straight  up- 
and-down  hand  with  the  blackest  ink,  when  the 
janitor's  boy,  engaged  for  the  occasion,  threw  open 
the  door.  Ruff  sprang  up,  expecting  to  meet  the 
ladies,  but  it  was  Whiley  Norreys,  who  entered 
with  outstretched  hand. 

"  How  are  you,  Ruff  ? "  said  he.  "  I  came 
early.  Here,  take  this."  He  divested  himself  of 
his  light  top-coat  and  gave  it  to  the  boy.  "  I  said 
to  myself,"  he  went  on,  with  his  large  bland 
smile,  "  Ruff  will  need  a  hint  or  two.  It  is  not 
every  man  who  knows  how  to  carry  off  these 
things." 

"  Look  about  the  rooms,  Norreys !  "  Ruff  re- 
turned, "  and  find  fault  with  whatever  does  not 
come  up  to  the  mark." 

"  Of  course,"  observed  Norreys,  "  I  am  in  the 
swim  and  I  know  how  these  things  are  done  ;  you 
are  not  in  the  swim  and  you  cannot  know  how 
these  things  are  done." 

Ruff  was  hospitable  to  new  ideas,  above  all  to 
ideas  imparted  by  an  expert  in  any  science.  He 
had  besides  an  ample  sense  of  humor,  and  now 
good-naturedly  sat  down,  crossed  his  legs  and 
watched  his  visitor,  who  darted  about,  wheeling  the 
tea-table  three  inches  to  the  right,  and  a  gi-eat  arm- 
chair, relieved  against  the  background  made  by  a 
rich  screen  and  a  beautiful  palm,  a  foot  nearer  the 
little  table  at  the  left,  which  was  loaded  with 
attractive  trifles. 


46  CIPHERS. 

"  There,"  said  Norreys  in  the  tone  of  a  man  who 
by  his  unaided  efforts  has  created  a  small  world, 
"the  effect  is  good,  excellent!  It  needed  just 
this  touch.  But  on  my  word,  Ruff,  you  had  man- 
aged very  well.  Your  rooms  have  quite  an  air. 
If  you  had  turned  your  attention  to  these  matters 
at  an  early  age  and  given  up  your  whole  mind  to 
them  I  can  see  that  you  might  have  developed  a 
genuine  social  talent." 

"  I  had  not  the  time,"  answered  Ruff,  with  a 
peculiar  smile ;  "  and  besides,  Norreys,  I  have  not 
the  intellect." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that,"  said  Norreys.  "  But  I 
take  it  each  man  has  his  own  line,  and  perhaps 
yours  is  to  be  a  looker-on  and  not  a  chief  actor  in 
the  world.  When  your  writings  come  up  for  men- 
tion I  always  say  that  what  stamps  Holly  Ruff's  work 
is  its  being  alive  with  what  we  call  actualite" 

"  A  man  who  has  anything  to  do  with  journal- 
ism can't  afford  to  be  what  the  French  call  'a 
slayer  of  dead  dogs, ' "  Ruff  replied  modestly.  "  I 
do  try  to  keep  along  with  current  events,  —  even,  if 
possible,  to  know  what  is  going  to  happen." 

"  The  art  of  life !  —  that  is  what  makes  a  leader 
everywhere,"  said  Norreys.  He  had  taken  a  chair 
opposite  Ruff,  and  the  two  men,  each  in  exactly  the 
same  attitude,  looked  at  each  other.  No  two 
could  be  in  more  absolute  contrast.  Ruff  was 
slender,  pale,  and,  all  in  black  and  white,  every 
line  clearly  cut,  gave  the  impression  of  an  etch- 
ing. Norreys  was  large,  loosely  made,  inclined  to 


CIPHERS.  47 

corpulency,  his  coloring  florid,  his  eyes  wrinkled 
at  the  corners ;  still  his  whole  figure  and  mien 
carried  a  suggestion  of  conscious  good  looks.  "  I 
always  say  to  my  tailor,"  he  went  on,  "  that  I 
wish  to  wear  not  what  is,  but  what  is  going  to  be, 
the  fashion.  However,  catching  the  thistle-down 
in  air  is  a  feminine  trait.  I  flatter  myself  that  my 
taste  and  judgment  are  correct,  usually  I  might 
say  infallible,  yet  I  have  made  mistakes.  But  a 
clever  woman  never  makes  a  mistake.  She  can 
seize  the  bead  of  the  first  bubble  of  the  champagne, 
the  glint  of  the  coming  rainbow.  There  are  here 
in  New  York  certain  women  with  whom  one  dines, 
or  whom  one  goes  to  see  on  their  reception  days, 
whose  gown  or  table  or  arrangement  of  courses 
shows  some  eccentricity,  which  at  first  blush  seems 
a  droll  fad,  but  presently  it  is  discovered  that 
what  we  had  taken  as  a  freak  of  fancy  is  the 
new  fashion  among  the  smart  set  in  Vienna,  St. 
Petersburg,  or  London." 

"That  shows  no  special  force  of  originality," 
Ruff  observed,  always  ready  to  bristle  with  nega- 
tions. 

"  Who  wants  originality  ? "  said  Norreys. 
"  What  we  want  is  thorough  good  form." 

"  Still  somebody,  sometime,  must  have  possessed 
originality." 

"  I  don't  feel  certain  of  that,"  insisted  Nor- 
reys. "  Society  and  all  social  forms  are  a 
gradual  accretion.  There  is,  of  course,  a  certain 
—  er  —  er —  magnetic  force  at  the  centre,  as  it 


48  CIPHERS. 

were.  Everything  revolves  around  this  in  its  own 
orbit,  and  what  is  essential  and  permanent  ad- 
heres." He  illustrated  his  interesting  scientific 
hypothesis  with  appropriate  gestures.  Then, 
pleased  with  this  exhibition  of  his  cleverness,  he 
proceeded.  uNo,  Ruff,  I  always  feel  that  any 
attempt  at  originality  is  dangerous.  If  innova- 
tion begins,  where  will  it  end  ?  No,  no  woman  of 
undoubted  position  can  afford  to  run  any  risk  of 
being  original.  She  must  use  her  taste  and  her 
intellect  in  elaborating  and  perfecting  the  ideas 
bequeathed  to  her  by  those  who  in  their  day  have 
held  their  position  unquestioned  and  unassailed. 
There  is  always  plenty  of  room  for  development. 
By  the  way,  Ruff,"  —  here  Norreys  leaned  forward 
and,  sinking  his  voice,  spoke  with  peculiar  empha- 
sis, —  "I  believe  you  are  an  old  acquaintance  of 
Mrs.  Lee  Childe.  Candidly,  what  do  you  think  of 
her  ?  " 

Ruff,  as  was  his  near-sighted  habit,  had  taken 
off  his  eyeglasses  and  was  examining  them  with 
microscopic  attention,  breathing  upon  them  as  a 
prelude  to  scouring  them  with  his  fresh  pocket- 
handkerchief.  "  What  do  you  think  of  her, 
Norreys  ?  "  he  replied,  beginning  to  rub  painfully. 
"  That  is  more  to  the  point.  You  settle  such 
questions." 

Still  leaning  forward,  Norreys  nodded  and  shook 
his  forefinger.  "  Too  much  wit,  too  much  wit," 
he  said  impressively. 

"It  has   sometimes  occurred  to  me,"  observed 


CIPHERS.  49 

Ruff,  without  desisting  from  his  occupation,  "  that 
she  cultivates  too  assiduously  the  art  of  being 
misunderstood  by  dull  people." 

"  Exactly,"  murmured  Norreys,  with  admiration. 
"  You  have  said  it.  Verbum  sat." 

At  the  same  instant  he  put  his  finger  to  his  lip 
and  rose.  Ruff,  still  fumbling  at  his  eyeglasses 
to  bestow  a  final  polish,  followed  his  example,  but 
the  pause  was  most  unlucky.  The  whole  party 
had  entered  simultaneously,  —  Mr.  Childe  and  his 
daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  Fletcher,  Mrs.  Ferris,  Miss 
Hurst  and  Sidney  Breck.  Ruff,  blind  as  a  bat 
without  his  eyeglasses,  was  about  to  put  them 
on  when,  by  an  awkward  fatality,  he  contrived  to 
drop  them.  It  was  second  nature  to  a  born  mas- 
ter of  ceremonies  like  Whiley  Norreys  to  throw 
himself  into  the  breach,  when  Ruff  lost  his  own 
opportunity.  He  darted  forward,  made  a  low 
salaam,  as  if  overcome  with  delight,  then  recov- 
ered himself  and  addressed  particular  greetings  to 
each  lady  in  the  exact  order  of  precedence,  lead- 
ing them  in  turn  up  to  Ruff,  whose  mishap  had 
brought  on  an  inopportune  fit  of  shyness  and 
driven  every  idea  out  of  his  head. 

Perhaps  what  hindered  his  recovery  of  self- 
possession  after  Sidney  Breck  had  obligingly 
picked  up  and  restored  his  eyeglasses  was  that 
Mrs.  Lee  ChilJe  startled  him.  Something  in  her 
dress,  her  face,  her  manner,  struck  him  as  quite 
out  of  the  usual.  Was  it  her  wide-brimmed  gray 
hat  trimmed  with  plumes,  or  the  fluffy  gray  boa 


50  CIPHERS. 

which  she  wore  over  her  close-fitting  gray  gown  that 
invested  her  with  this  shimmer  of  silver  radiance? 
or  was  it  that  he  was  dazzled  by  her  evident  high 
spirits?  He  had  sometimes  said  of  her  that  she 
had  a  hundred  faces  and  a  hundred  manners,  each 
more  charming  than  the  other,  and  certainly 
something  in  her  aspect  to-day,  hitherto  unseen, 
took  him  at  his  word.  She  addressed  him  with 
unhesitating  friendliness,  telling  him  that  she  and 
Miss  Hurst  had  been  walking  together  in  the  Park, 
and  that  the  beauty  of  the  day  had  made  them  lin- 
ger until  almost  the  very  hour  he  had  named  for 
their  arrival  here  ;  that  in  order  not  to  be  belated 
they  had  had  the  carriage  take  them  to  the  nearest 
station  of  the  "  elevated."  The  journey  down  town 
had  been  delightful.  Hereafter,  Milly  declared,  she 
intended  spending  her  entire  day  in  making  trips 
from  one  end  of  the  island  to  the  other.  He  had 
never  seen  her  in  such  bubbling  high  spirits.  Pie 
knew  not  how  to  account  for  the  impression  she 
left  on  him.  It  was  one  of  his  many  clever  sayings 
about  the  fair  sex  that  no  man  could  be  quite  cer- 
tain where  the  gown  ended  and  the  woman  began ; 
and  now  the  problem  perplexed  and  baffled  him. 
As  if  his  years  of  intimate  habit  counted  for 
naught,  as  if  she  were  a  great  lady  whom  he  met 
for  the  first  time,  he  bowed,  said  he  was  most 
happy,  —  most  happy,  he  was  sure,  —  smiled  in- 
anely, declared  it  was  not  late,  —  in  fact,  said  and 
looked  and  did  exactly  what  an  hour  before  he 
would  have  sworn  he  could  by  no  possibility  have 
said  or  looked  or  done. 


CIPHERS.  51 

The  experience  which  paralyzed  Ruff  made 
Norreys  master  of  the  occasion.  Indeed,  each 
member  of  the  party,  if  we  except  Breck,  —  gen- 
erally glad  to  hold  his  tongue  and  use  his  eyes  and 
ears,  —  eagerly  helped  to  fill  any  gap  by  express- 
ing admiration  for  the  rooms,  the  appointments, 
the  decorations,  the  flowers,  each  individual  silver 
bauble  on  the  gueridon,  the  screen,  the  tea-caddy, 
even  the  cups  and  saucers. 

"  Yes,"  Norreys  magnanimously  announced,  "  I 
was  telling  Ruff  that  he  has  the  knack  of  succeed- 
ing in  all  he  undertakes." 

All  added  unstinted  praise.  The  host  smiled, 
but  it  was  not  the  smile  of  a  happy  man.  Without 
any  cut-and-dried  arrangement  he  had  laid  out  a 
sort  of  programme  for  the  entertainment  of  his 
guests.  His  exquisite  etchings  were  even  more 
rare  than  beautiful.  He  had  some  very  clever 
sketches  by  great  masters.  He  especially  piqued 
himself  on  his  books,  being  the  owner  of  unique 
copies  with  bindings  which  touch  the  soul  of  the 
connoisseur.  He  could  besides  draw  aside  a  silken 
curtain  from  a  shelf  of  shabby  volumes  whose 
title-pages  and  fly-leaves  were  scrawled  over  with 
signatures  which  made  the  blood  of  collectors  burn 
with  emulation.  Nothing  in  his  rooms  was  every- 
day or  commonplace.  The  hall-marks  on  his  silver 
rendered  each  piece  a  positively  priceless  posses- 
sion, and  his  samovar  had  its  only  duplicate  in  the 
winter  palace  of  a  Russian  grand  duke.  These 
appurtenances,  trivial  it  is  true,  yet  still  suggesting 


52  CIPHERS. 

the  acme  of  civilization,  were  to  have  given  him 
the  requisite  cue,  and  he  was  to  have  talked  to  the 
ladies  in  his  very  best  vein,  as  only  a  clever  man 
can  talk  who  is  at  home  in  his  subject.  He  had, 
however,  counted  without  his  guests.  It  might 
not  be  easy  to  tell  what  occasion  Whiley  Norreys 
did  not  consider  his  own  ;  now,  at  least,  he  believed 
thoroughly  that  Providence,  watching  over  Holly 
Ruff,  —  who,  like  some  other  gifted  people,  wrote 
like  an  angel  and  talked  (in  the  presence  of  ladies 
at  least)  like  Poor  Poll,  —  had  conducted  him, 
Whiley  Norreys,  hither.  He  assumed  all  the  pre- 
rogatives of  a  host;  he  established  everybody  to 
his  liking ;  he  instructed  Miss  Hurst  how  to  heat 
the  samovar  and  to  make  the  tea,  the  knowledge 
of  which  occult  process  he  evidently  considered 
his  own  by  special  revelation.  In  fact,  Holly 
Ruff  and  Breck  stood  apart  like  interlopers ;  Ruff 
tremulous  with  suppressed  irritation,  while  Breck 
was  glad  to  be  a  looker-on.  He  had  blushed  and 
dropped  his  eyes  on  meeting  Mrs.  Childe,  and  had 
not  ventured  to  encounter  her  glance.  He  hated 
to  remember  that  he  had  given  way  to  a  romantic, 
impractical  impulse.  Then,  besides,  if  he  had 
been  recognized  he  mi^ht  have  seemed  intrusive, 

O  O  ' 

absurd,  maudlin.  The  days  of  troubadours  were 
past,  and  certainly  he  had  in  general  no  desire  to 
play  the  role.  Thus  he  and  Ruff  stood  looking  at 
and  listening  to  the  group,  each  member  of  which 
seemed  to  have  a  thousand  things  to  say  exactly 
apropos  and  not  once  lacking  in  precision  of  ex- 


CIPHERS.  53 

pression.  Breck  was  eagerly  interested  and  was 
ready  to  admire  what  everybody  uttered  and  did. 
Ruff  was  not  so  happy;  he  was  more  conscious  of 
himself ;  it  galled  him  to  reflect  that  he  was  show- 
ing himself  ineffective,  and  that,  too,  before  the 
woman  he  wished  to  impress  with  the  fact  of  his 
superior  effectiveness.  He  had  yearned  to  lift  the 
burden  of  inanity  with  which  she  was  weighted,  to 
fuse  her  dull,  inert,  wealthy  existence  with  the  fire 
and  sparkle  of  his  own  wit  and  intellect. 

"  Mr.  Ruff  seems  to  me  to  lead  the  most  envia- 
ble existence,"  Miss  Hurst  remai-ked.  "  Do  you 
often  give  afternoon  teas,  Mr.  Ruff  ?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  has  time,  to  say  nothing  of 
inclination  ?  "  interposed  Milly.  "  He  has  his  life, 
that  is  to  say,  his  career,  to  deal  with,  to  divide  it 
between  work,  recreation,  sleep,  duty,  pleasure,  and 
the  rest  of  it." 

Ruff  bowed,  and  tried  to  look  like  a  man  who 
suppresses  more  of  feeling  than  he  shows  or  utters. 

"  The  scheme  of  things  is  all  in  favor  of  men," 
pursued  Milly. 

"  A  man  has  something  to  do,"  said  Miss  Hurst. 

"  A  woman  used  to  think  she  had,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Fletcher. 

"  Yes,  to  make  every  man  her  slave  and  every 
woman  her  friend,"  said  Mr.  Childe  gallantly. 

"  What  an  existence  !  "  observed  Milly.  "  One 
would  have  more  joy  over  one  downright  remorse- 
less enemy  than  over  the  ninety  and  nine  who 
fawned  upon  one." 


54  CIPHERS. 

"  As  if  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  could  have  an  enemy," 
said  Whiley  Norreys.  "Mr.  Childe  has  defined 
her,  —  every  man  her  slave,  every  woman  her 
friend." 

"  It  is  quite  superfluous  to  tell  her  such  things," 
said  Miss  Hurst.  "  She  has  everything  her  own 
way.  I  used  to  have  lovers  and  friends ;  nowadays 
I  am  their  confidant  and  they  talk  by  the  hour 
about  Mrs.  Lee  Childe.  Some  people  consider 
that  her  manner  is  rather  distant  at  times,  but 
with  that  sort  of  a  finished  woman  one  can't  always 
tell  from  a  woman's  manner  just  what  she  means, 
you  know.  They  realize  that,  and  also  that  a 
woman  has  sometimes  to  be  a  coquette  in  self-de- 
fense. They  forgive  her  everything." 

"  You  are  absurd,  Georgy,"  said  Milly,  laugh- 
ing. "  I  hate  it." 

"To  have  every  man  at  your  feet?  I  assure 
you  it  is  a  great  deal  worse  to  have  no  man  at  your 
feet.  I  hope  you  are  taking  notes,  Mr.  Ruff,"  she 
continued,  addressing  her  host,  "  and  that  we  shall 
see  all  our  good  things  in  the  morning  papers." 

"  I  have  not  the  honor  of  being  a  reporter,"  he 
retorted.  "  I  ought  to  have  remembered  that  peo- 
ple are  used  to  having  their  doings  chronicled,  and 
have  posted  a  stenographer  behind  the  screen." 

"  Mr.  Ruff's  art  is  more  subtle,"  observed  Milly. 
"  He  listens  and  observes,  then  shows  up  our  follies 
in  an  epigram.  However,  society  never  knows 
when  it  is  laughed  at." 

"Why  should  one  wish  to  laugh  at  society?" 
asked  Mrs.  Ferris. 


CIPHERS.  55 

"  Unless  society  could  be  laughed  at,"  returned 
Milly,  "  I  really  do  not  see  what  it  was  intended 
for." 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Childe,"  said  Norreys,  "  don't  you 
think  that  in  a  spirit  of  wit  or  of  paradox  you 
occasionally  take  a  tone  about  society  which  is  a 
trifle  unfair  ?  " 

"  Unfair  ?  If  one  does  not  go  into  society  to 
get  a  little  amusement  out  of  the  absurdities  of 
the  chief  actors,  what  should  one  go  for  ?  "  Milly 
retorted.  "  It  is  true  that  this  ideal  entertainment 
sometimes  fails.  Often  when  I  am  assisting  at  the 
most  expensive  affairs,  the  thought  comes  over  me 
that  there  is  actually  no  flame  to  justify  the  can- 
dle. However,  one  has  to  go  on  smiling  and  re- 
sponding with  fervor  to  everybody's  conversation. 
It  does  seem  a  pity  that  from  the  very  nature  of 
things  there  can  be  no  ideas  in  society.  As  soon 
as  anybody  has  ideas,  like  Mr.  Ruff,  for  example, 
he  has  something  valuable  to  do  with  them,  and  so 
gives  up  society." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Norreys  smoothly. 
"  Ruff  is  a  clever  man,  possessing  versatile  know- 
ledge, wit,  —  all  that.  But  yet  literary  people 
have  always  shown  a  secret  hankering  after  the 
society  of  fashionable  people." 

"  The  thing  is,  Norreys,"  Ruff  managed  to  find 
opportunity  to  say,  "  we  have  ideas,  —  ideas,  alas, 
some  of  them  !  which  it  needs  a  hatful  of  money 
to  carry  out.  Now  you  have  the  hatful  of  money, 
so  we  run  after  you,  hoping  that  you  will  carry  out 
our  ideas." 


56  CIPHERS. 

"  I  don't  say  that  I  am  a  great  original  thinker," 
said  Norreys  with  his  large  bland  gesture,  "  nor  do 
I  claim  that  many  people  in  our  set  are  great  ori- 
ginal thinkers,  but  I  will  assert  this,  that  every 
scribbler  in  New  York  has  his  e}'e  on  us  and 
makes  a  paragraph  upon  our  least  movement." 

"  And  did  you  ever  see  such  impudence  as  they 
put  in  the  papers  ?  "  said  Mr.  Childe.  "  This  very 
morning  I  found  this  in  the  '  Republic.' '  He 
fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  a  scrap  of  paper,  drew  it 
out,  and  with  a  lively  air  of  indignation  read  from 
it:  "'The  young  and  lovely  Mrs.  Childe,  heiress 
of  the  Pardee  millions  and  widow  of  Lee  Childe, 
formerly  one  of  the  best-known  men  about  town, 
has  emerged  from  her  two  years  of  mourning,  and 
promises  to  be  a  bright  particular  star  in  the  so- 
cial firmament  this  winter.'  " 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  hide  my  light  under  a 
bushel,"  said  Milly.  "  I  myself  never  read  those 
paragraphs,  but  if  that  is  the  worst  they  find  to 
tell  of  me  I  can  endure  it." 

"  But  to  say  you  are  only  a  two  years'  widow 
when  everybody  knows  poor  Lee  died  about  five 
years  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher,  —  "it  is  cruelly 
unjust." 

"  I  am  grateful  for  their  moderation.  They 
might  have  said  two  months." 

"  Here  is  another,"  said  Mr.  Childe  testily.  "  I 
cut  them  out  and  paste  them  in  a  book.  I  con- 
sider them  one  of  the  signs  of  the  times,  danger 
signals  that  show  what  this  generation  is  coming 


CIPHERS.  57 

to."  Again  he  raised  his  eyeglasses,  and  read  in 
his  soft,  drawling  voice,  " '  Mrs.  Lee  Childe,  who, 
although  the  richest  woman  in  New  York,  is  only 
twenty-five  years  old,  is  a  fearless  rider.  Not  unfre- 
quently  the  early  morning  bird  in  Central  Park ' ' 

"As  if  I  were  a  worm,"  murmured  Milly. 

"  '  Sings  pseans  at  the  sight  of  the  fair  eques- 
trian, faultlessly  arrayed  in  a  gray  habit.  She  sits 
her  black  horse  squarely  and  well,  shoulders  well 
back  in  the  English  fashion.  Occasionally  she  is 
accompanied  by  her  venerable  father-in-law,  Ru- 
therford Childe,  who  is  one  of  the  last  surviving 
relics  of  a  generation  whose  manners  had  the  old- 
fashioned  court  stamp  of  another  century  when 
social  distinction  was  not  founded  on  the  posses- 
sion of  vulgar  dollars.'  '  Mr.  Childe  dropped  his 
glasses  and  gazed  first  at  one,  then  at  another  of 
the  group.  "  How  old  do  you  suppose  they  think 
I  am  ?  "  he  asked  plaintively.  "  By  that  allusion 
to  the  last  century,  do  you  suppose  they  mean  to 
give  the  idea  I  was  born  in  seventeen  hundred 
something  ?  " 

"They  make  the  most  nonsensical  mistakes," 
said  Norreys  soothingly.  "  If  I  were  to  tell  you  all 
the  absurdities  they  have  concocted  about  me  you 
would  wonder  how  I  contrive  to  survive  it.  But 
let  us  remember  that  the  eyes  of  the  world  are 
upon  us.  Noblesse  oblige.  The  important  thing 
is  to  give  them  something  worth  telling.  I  am 
ready  to  confess,  Ruff,  that  it  needed  just  this 
lynx-eyed  criticism,  this  free  observation,  this  bold, 


58  CIPHERS. 

intrusive  daylight  let  into  every  crack  and  cranny 
of  our  daily  lives,  to  make  New  York  see  its  faults. 
New  York  has  developed.  I  am  no  chicken,  and  I 
knew  New  York  when  it  was  comparatively  crude, 
and  I  can  assure  you  all  that  New  York  has  im- 
proved and  is  improving  all  the  time.  And  I  am 
willing  to  attribute  it  in  part  to  the  fact  that,  no 
matter  what  paper  we  take  up  nowadays,  we  see 
ourselves,  as  it  were,  in  a  mirror." 

"  D — d  impudence  !  that  is  what  I  call  it,"  said 
Mr.  Childe.  "  And  as  to  New  York  having  im- 
proved, I  would  rather  have  one  side  of  Washing- 
ton Square  as  it  was  when  I  was  a  boy  than  to 
have  all  Murray  Hill  put  together." 

"  The  glamour  of  youth,  the  light  of  other  days," 
said  Whiley  Norreys.  "  Now  I  am  a  disinterested 
judge.  I  see  things  with  an  unprejudiced  eye,  and 
when  I  look  back  I  must  concede  the  fact  that 
formerly  there  was  nothing  rounded,  finished,  sym- 
metrical, about  New  York  society.  Of  course  a  few 
old  families  and  a  few  rich  families  lived  in  a  hand- 
some way.  But  twenty-five  years  ago  it  was  im- 
possible for  a  fastidious  man  to  accept  invitations 
freely  without  encountering  some  painful  shocks. 
No  standard  existed,  one  might  say.  I  shall  never 
forget  one  experience  after  my  return  from  Eu- 
rope, where  I  had  lived  for  two  years  on  terms  of 
intimacy  with  people  who  really  understood  the  art 
of  savoir  faire  and  savoir  vivre.  Alas,  it  seemed 
for  a  while  as  if  that  season  had  been  my  Capua, 
and  had  quite  unfitted  me  for  the  rigors  of  Ameri- 


CIPHERS.  59 

can  existence.  Naturally  my  return  was  the  signal 
for  hospitalities  among  the  Norreys  and  Whiley  con- 
nection, —  a  respectable  connection,  I  think  I  may 
venture  to  say.  But  I  suffered,  —  I  assure  you  I 
suffered.  I  shall  never  forget  dining  with  my 
aunt,  Mrs.  Vandervoort,  on  Washington  Square,  a 
contemporary  of  your  own,  my  dear  Mr.  Childe." 

"  Ten  years  older,  at  least,  —  at  least,  ten  years 
older,"  said  Mr.  Childe. 

"  Just  so,  of  course,  but  excellent  people  of  the 
solid  sort ;  no  end  of  money  which  had  been  theirs 
for  generations ;  the  same  English  butler  they  had 
set  out  with,  forty  years  before ;  a  capital  cellar  with 
the  choicest  Madeira  I  ever  tasted.  The  dinner 
was  given  on  what  Americans  call  Thanksgiving 
Day.  We  had  oysters,  soup,  fish,  and  then  roast 
turkey,  a  magnificent  bird  brought  to  the  table 
and  set  before  my  uncle,  who  was  an  expert  carver. 
I  greeted  the  ever  familiar  sight  after  my  Euro- 
pean experience,  for  roast  turkey  is,  I  may  say,  a 
distinctively  American  dish  —  like  canvas-back  and 
terrapin.  I  had  not  eaten  what  I  called  roast  tur- 
key during  my  absence.  To  advance  :  my  uncle 
sent  me  generous  slices  of  the  white  meat,  also  a 
second  joint,  and  I  looked  round  for  the  giblet 
gravy.  The  butler  was  dispensing  the  champagne, 
and  one  of  his  assistants  brought  me  mashed  po- 
tato, while  another  offered  cauliflower.  Now,  as 
it  happens,  cauliflower  is  my  favorite  vegetable. 
It  is  indeed  more  than  a  vegetable,  it  is  a  dish. 
Thus,  there  was  something  almost  painful  in  having 


60  CIPHERS. 

it  offered  as  a  mere  auxiliary  to  turkey  and  mashed 
potato,  with  neither  of  which  has  it  either  that  nat- 
ural conjunction  or  that  piquant  opposition  which 
results  iu  the  happy  harmony,  or  the  marriage  of 
contraries,  which  is  the  soul  of  good  eating.  Still, 
as  I  before  remarked,  I  like  cauliflower ;  so,  against 
my  better  judgment,  I  yielded  and  helped  myself 
to  some.  No  sooner  had  I  bestowed  half  the  room 
left  on  my  plate  on  the  cauliflower,  hoping  for  the 
speedy  advent  of  the  melted  butter  to  eat  it  with, 
than  peas  appeared  at  my  elbow.  I  have  a  weak- 
ness for  French  peas,  and  as  there  was  still  an  inch 
of  bare  space  I  appropriated  it  for  those  delicate 
petits  poisfins.  The  butler  by  this  time  had  made 
his  rounds  with  the  champagne,  and  now  shoved 
cranberry  before  me  with  one  hand,  while  with  the 
other  he  offered  giblet  gravy,  not  as  an  alternative, 
but  as  an  adjunct,  for  one  eats  both  cranberry 
sauce  and  giblet  gravy  with  turkey.  But  how  was 
one  to  achieve  it  ?  Where  was  I  to  find  room  for 
either  ?  However,  glancing  at  my  fellow-guests, 
I  discovered  that  each  man  or  woman's  plate  was 
heaped  to  the  height  of  six  inches,  and  saying  to 
myself,  '  What  others  dare  I  will  venture,'  I  pro- 
ceeded to  pile  cranberry  sauce  on  top  of  my  tur- 
key, which  was  indeed  the  only  possible  haven  for 
it,  then  I  deluged  my  mashed  potato  with  gravy. 
At  tb.3  same  instant  the  gods,  taking  their  own 
time  as  usual,  answered  my  prayer  for  melted  but- 
ter, and  I  accordingly  ladled  out  the  melted  butter 
and  inundated  my  cauliflower.  Imagine,  Mrs. 


CIPHERS.  61 

Childe,  the  olla-podrida  on  a  plate  at  the  utmost 
ten  inches  in  diameter.  Within  this  thirty  inches 
of  margin  were  turkey,  potato,  cranberry,  cauli- 
flower, peas,  gravy,  and  melted  butter !  Every- 
thing- seemed  to  have  changed  places  ;  turkey  was 
submerged  in  a  puree  made  of  peas  and  melted 
butter :  the  potato  was  flavored  with  cranberry, 
the  cauliflower  with  giblet,  while  the  peas  were 
mixed  up  with  the  oysters  used  in  the  turkey  stuff- 
ing. Everything,  in  short,  tasted  of  what  it  should 
not/' 

"  Just  fancy,"  said  Mrs.  Ferris. 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  inquired  Milly. 

"  What  a  man  of  the  world  does  under  all  cir- 
cumstances when  he  can,  —  I  ate  my  dinner.  I 
took  what  came  uppermost." 

"  What  splendid  self-denial !  What  high  cour- 
age !  "  said  Milly.  "  Did  it  disagree  with  you  ?  " 

"  The  blood  of  the  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the 
church,"  said  Norreys.  "  Having  eaten  that  din- 
ner I  recognized  my  mission.  It  was  to  preach  a 
crusade,  to  teach  my  countrymen  how  to  dine. 
'  Here,'  I  said,  '  is  a  good  dinner  spoiled  in  the 
serving.  These  unnatural  combinations,  these  soul- 
curdling  amalgamations,  shock  every  finer  instinct. 
Give  every  dish  its  chance.  How  is  a  man  to  find 
his  intellect,  his  wit,  his  sentiment,  while  probing 
his  mess  for  turkey  and  bringing  up  something 
which  tastes  like  any  tiling  except  its  individual 
self?'" 

"  Exactly,"  said  Mrs.  Childe,  springing  up.    "  In 


62  CIPHERS. 

fact,  I  wish  never  to  dine  again.  I  feel  like  a 
stuffed  goose  after  your  moving  description.  Oh, 
Mr.  Breck,  I  have  been  thinking-  to  myself  there 
must  be  a  view  from  that  window ;  will  you  show 
it  to  me  ?  " 

As  she  spoke  she  moved  forward,  and  Breck 
joined  her.  Any  disappointment  experienced  by 
Mr.  Norreys  at  this  desertion  was  successfully  cov- 
ered by  his  knowledge  of  what  to  do  under  all  cir- 
cumstances, and  he  went  on  illustrating  his  hy- 
pothesis, that  the  most  fastidious  of  men  might 
nowadays  accept  invitations  freely  in  New  York 
with  an  utter  absence  of  shock. 

Meanwhile,  Milly  Childe  and  Breck  stood  gazing 
wistfully  seaward  in  silence.  Then  turning  to  him 
she  said  softly,  — 

"  It  was  you.  At  the  time  it  did  not  occur  to 
me.  It  was  simply  a  beautiful  voice  out  of  the 
night.  I  had  come  in  from  the  opera,  and  the 
moonlight  had  made  me  restless,  —  it  often  does. 
I  told  Wilkins  I  wanted  to  sit  at  the  window  for 
half  an  hour  and  look  out.  The  trees  in  the 
square  moved  to  and  fro.  Do  you  remember  Haz- 
litt's  '  Wave  on,  wave  on,  ye  woods  of  Tuderley, 
and  lift  your  high  tops  in  the  air '  ?  It  had  the 
same  charm  for  me.  It  seemed  to  me  there  must 
be  a  murmur.  I  pushed  up  the  sash.  Two  min- 
utes later "  —  She  paused  and  looked  at  him. 
His  face  expressed  comic  entreaty.  "  I  will  not 
talk  about  it  if  you  object,"  she  added. 

"  It  gave  me  a  fit  of  self-disgust,"  said  Breck. 


CIPHERS.  63 

"  I  generally  try  to  preserve  my  balance.     Please 
forget  it.     How  do  yon  like  the  view  ?  " 

Her  eyes  rested  on  his  face  for  a  moment  more, 
and  she  smiled  ;  then  she  turned  and  looked  at  the 
curving  lines  of  sea  and  shore.  "  If  I  were  to  settle 
down  in  New  York,"  she  remarked,  "  I  should  like 
to  buy  land  close  to  the  Battery,  tear  down  what  I 
did  not  like  in  my  surroundings,  and  then  build  me 
a  house." 

"  Let  me  draw  the  plans  for  you,"  suggested 
Breck. 

"  Are  you  an  architect  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  returned  mischievously.  "  This  build- 
ing was  my  design.  I  heard  you  say  as  you  came 
up  in  the  lift,  that  it  was  the  ugliest  edifice  you 
had  ever  seen." 

"  Really  an  architect  by  profession  ?  "  said  Milly 
incredulously. 

"  May  I  ask  why  I  should  not  be  an  architect  ?  " 

"  You  look  so  young." 

"  I  am  twenty-eight." 

She  flushed  slightly  with  a  purely  feminine  con- 
sciousness that  she  had  treated  him  with  a  sort  of 
easy  familiarity. 

"  You  do  not  look  so  old,"  she  said.  "  I  myself 
am  twenty-seven.  A  very  agreeable  age,  twenty- 
seven  and  twenty-eight,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  A  perfect  age  for  a  woman.  A  man  of  twenty- 
seven  or  twenty-eight  is  devoured  by  a  fever  to  be 
doing  something,  —  a  need  to  get  what  he  wants 
out  of  the  world.  In  twenty  years  I  expect  to  be 


64  CIPHEBS. 

happier  than  I  ever  am  now,  because  by  that  time 
I  shall  either  have  accomplished  something,  or 
have  been  hopelessly  beaten." 

She  gazed  at  him  with  a  smile  which  warmed 
and  tranquilized.  She  was  half  amused  that  lie 
should  be  talking  of  accomplishment  when  he 
looked  to  her  no  more  than  twenty,  —  a  mere  boy, 
so  fresh,  so  bright,  so  modest,  that  slie  was  inclined 
to  tell  him  that  she  liked  him.  She  wanted  to  say 
that  with  such  a  delightful  tenor  voice  he  ought  to 
be  a  singer,  but  her  intuitions  were  subtle,  and  she 
said  no  more  about  the  song  she  had  heard. 

"  You  have  what  they  call  a  tete  d*  artiste"  she 
observed.  "  I  think  an  architect  ought  to  be  called 
an  artist.  I  am  often  ready  to  say  that  the  only 
two  great  arts  are  architecture  and  music." 

"  I  understand  you,"  he  said.  "  But  I  took  up 
architecture  at  sixteen,  then  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen decided  that  it  was  not  enough,  that  I  must 
be  a  painter.  For  five  years  I  gave  my  whole 
heart  and  soul  to  that  art." 

"  And  then  ?  "  said  Milly  eagerly,  with  a  dozen 
questions  in  her  eyes  and  almost  on  her  lips.  Mr. 
Norreys  came  up  at  the  moment  with  a  cup  of  tea 
in  his  hand,  and  began  a  disquisition  on  tea  in  gen- 
eral and  this  in  particular.  The  party  all  followed 
him,  considering  the  respective  merits  of  lemon, 
sugar,  and  cream  as  the  accompaniment  of  tea. 
Everybody  broke  in  by  asking  what  point  it  was 
whose  shores  rose  in  a  purple  line  against  the 
flame  of  the  sunset;  then  Mrs.  Ferris  remembered 


CIPHERS.  65 

that  she  had  an  engagement  and  .must  be  at  home 
in  time  to  dress  for  it,  and  the  whole  party  hurried 
away. 

When  Ruff  had  made  his  last  bow  from  the 
curbstone,  after  overseeing  Norreys  put  Mrs.  Childe 
in  the  carriage,  he  turned  to  Sidney  Breck,  and 
said,  "  Come  back  to  my  room,"  with  an  energy  of 
tone  and  a  fierceness  of  expression  which  showed 
that  forces  were  at  work  within  him  requiring  in- 
stant outlet. 

The  party  had  not  gone  off  in  a  way  to  please 
the  giver  of  it,  and  to  lay  its  failure  to  Whiley 
Norreys  lightened  somewhat  the  burden  which  op- 
pressed Ruff's  soul.  He  summed  up  his  opinion 
of  Norreys  with  succinctness.  He  trampled  on 
him,  ground  him  to  atoms.  Then,  as  it  were,  pick- 
ing up  the  fragments  that  were  left,  he  recon- 
structed that  unfortunate  individual,  analyzing  his 
component  parts,  testing  each  ingredient  with 
a  biting  irony.  Next,  advancing  into  the  wider 
field  of  metaphor,  he  illustrated  his  idea  by  mak- 
ing Whiley  Norreys  appear  the  exponent,  the  in- 
terpreter of  fashionable  society  against  which  he 
declaimed  with  impassioned  rapidity  of  invective  ; 
an  insignificant  fraction  of  the  world  with  more 
dogmatism  than  the  Puritans  who  resolved, 
"  First,  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  belongs  to  the 
saints ;  secondly,  that  we  are  its  saints,"  — a  clique 
which  arrogates  superiority  to  itself,  and  on  what 
grounds?  Simply  because  with  affectation,  igno- 
rance, and  indolence  it  washes  its  hands  of  what 


66  CIPHERS. 

freshens  and  invigorates,  and  by  denying  a  fact 
supposes  that  it  altogether  puts  it  out  of  existence. 
What  that  class  of  people  call  cleverness,  Ruff 
went  on  to  say,  a  man  of  brains  and  sense  calls 
absurdity,  and  refrains  from ;  they  wear  blinkers, 
and  thus  seeing  only  that  small  lighted  circle  they 
are  traversing,  they  consider  that  outside  is  dark- 
ness and  gnashing  of  teeth ;  and  so  they  keep  on 
their  paltry  course,  piquing  themselves  on  the  vir- 
tue of  never  wetting  or  dusting  the  soles  of  their 
high-heeled  shoes,  and  altogether  maintaining  a 
meagre  and  idea-less  existence  based  upon  a  rooted 
disregard  for  the  rights  and  feelings  of  human 
nature  at  large. 

"  Oh,  come,  come,  Ruff,  let  them  live,"  said 
Breck  finally.  "After  all,  they  are  our  fellow- 
creatures." 

"  Did  you  hear  him  talk  about  every  scribbler 
in  New  York?"  pursued  Ruff  hotly.  "Do  you 
suppose  he  meant  me  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  you  are  but  one  of  them." 

"  And  I  had  flattered  the  bloated  beast  by  allud- 
ing to  him  as  having  a  hatful  of  money  !  He  has 
no  money  but  a  beggarly  annuity,  windbag  that  he 
is." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Breck  soothingly,  "  anybody 
wishes  Mr.  Norreys  were  drowned  in  his  own 
gravy,  but  all  the  same  he  entertained  me.  So 
much  dexterity  in  turning  a  situation  to  account, 
such  supple  rapidity  of  mind  in  making  something 
out  of  nothing,  and  such  flexible  vivacity  of  tongue, 


CIPHERS.  67 

must  be  so  useful.  Just  consider,  if  everybody 
had  been  struck  dumb  as  you  and  I  were." 

"  I  had  plenty  to  say,"  retorted  Ruff  in  a  tone 
expressive  of  injury.  "  I  am  not  so  much  at  a 
loss  as  you  seem  to  think.  Only  I  have  a  reputa- 
tion to  maintain,  and  cannot  bring  myself  to  the 
point  of  talking  down  to  that  level.  How  Mrs. 
Lee  Childe  can  permit  herself  so  to  be  stifled  by 
commonplaces,  —  how  —  By  the  way,  Sid,"  —  he 
turned  sharply  to  the  youngster,  —  "  what  was  she 
saying  to  you,  over  by  the  window  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Breck,  "  let  me  see,  what  was  it  ?  " 
He  was  a  candid  fellow,  yet  had  his  reserves,  and 
did  not  long  to  have  the  lens  of  Ruff's  magnifying 
glasses  turned  upon  certain  little  out-of-the-way 
corners  of  his  consciousness.  "  She  was  saying 
she  should  like  to  build  a  house  near  the  Battery. 
I  told  her  I  should  like  to  design  it  for  her,"  he 
added. 

"  A  mere  caprice,  I  dare  say,  like  other  caprices," 
said  Ruff.  "  Don't  flatter  yourself  that  she  is 
likely  to  think  twice  of  such  a  project.  It  is  a  pity, 
an  intolerable  pity,  that  a  woman  of  such  charm, 
such  actual  strength  of  mind,  should  fritter  herself 
away  upon  —  Heavens  and  earth  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
with  all  the  solemnity  he  could  infuse  into  the 
invocation. 

However,  an  idea  had  seized  him,  and  he  was  al- 
ready at  his  desk,  economically  jotting  down  the 
results  of  his  keen  emotions.  There  is  a  high  in- 
sight born  of  disappointment  and  despair,  —  it  is 


68  CIPHERS. 

worth  while  to  gather  the  bloom  even  of  our  rage. 
It  had  happened  before  that  what  Ruff  had  felt 
and  said  at  a  high  heat  had  been,  a  little  later, 
presented  to  the  reading  public  with  a  vivacity  of 
epigram  and  pointed  phrase  which  left  nothing  to 
be  desired.  For 

"  Tasks  in  hours  of  insight  will'd 
Can  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfill'd," 


IV. 

"WHY  not?"  Milly  Childe  had  said  to  herself 
that  day  half  a  dozen  times.  "  Why  not  ?  I  am 
twenty-seven  years  old,  a  married  woman  of  nine 
years'  standing,  and  a  widow  of  four  and  a  half ;  I 
ought  to  know  what  I  might  and  might  not  do 
with  propriety.  Why  not  ?  " 

She  could  not  help  thinking  of  Sidney  Breck. 
The  little  adventure  of  the  song  which  she  had 
heard  by  the  merest  chance  —  for  he  had  directed 
it  towards  Mr.  Rutherford  Childe's  windows  — 
charmed  her.  Perhaps,  when  next  day  she  sud- 
denly recognized  the  singer  in  Breck^  she  might,  if 
he  had  been  surer  of  himself,  have  experienced 
disillusion.  She  had  learned  to  distrust  votaries 
of  opportunity,  and  was  only  too  ready  to  protect 
herself  from  possible  intrusion.  But  this  young 
fellow's  shamefacedness  in  meeting  her,  the  leap 
of  color  to  his  face  and  of  light  to  the  eyes  he 
withdrew  from  hers,  before  he  met  her  glance,  won 
her  friendliness.  "  What  a  charming  boy  !  "  she 
said  to  herself. 

However,  it  turned  out  that  he  was  twenty-eight 
years  old,  her  senior,  an  architect  and  apparently 
a  successful  man.  He  had  begun  by  being  a 
painter,  and  he  sang  delightfully.  Certainly,  he 
seemed  to  have  been  well  endowed  by  nature,  and 


70  CIPHERS. 

there  was  a  simplicity,  a  directness  in  him,  a  way 
of  doing  what  he  set  about  without  any  effort,  that 
easily  persuaded  her  he  might  do  anything  he  at- 
tempted. He  interested  her,  —  that  she  was  ready 
to  confess ;  and  so  few  people  actually  interested 
her  that  she  found  her  curiosity  to  know  more  of 
Breck  a  satisfactory  explanation  to  this  new  mood 
of  fervor,  almost  recklessness,  this  willingness  to 
take  the  initiative.  She  had  hoped  he  would  come 
to  see  her  of  his  own  accord,  but  he  had  not  come. 
She  thought  of  sending  him  an  invitation  to  dinner, 
and  looked  in  the  directory  for  his  address.  By 
an  odd  coincidence  his  place  of  business  had  the 
same  street  and  number  as  that  of  her  lawyer,  Mr. 
Joshua  Venn.  It  was  after  making  this  discovery 
that  she  said  to  herself,  "Why  not?" 

It  had  never  been  Mrs.  Childe's  habit  to  go  to 
see  Mr.  Venn.  When  she  required  his  services 
she  sent  him  a  note  or  a  dispatch  by  wire,  and  he 
at  once  dropped  all  other  business  and  set  out  to 
call  upon  her.  But  ten  days  after  Holly  Ruff's 
"  tea,"  just  as  Mr.  Joshua  Venn  was  bowing  out 
a  visitor,  he  was  startled  by  the  apparition  of  his 
favorite  client,  standing  apparently  lost  in  thought 
or  bewildered  by  her  strange  surroundings  on  top 
of  the  landing,  reading  the  names  on  the  doors 
which  opened  into  the  main  corridor. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Childe,"  said  Mr.  Venn,  advan- 
cing towards  her,  "  can  I  flatter  myself  you  are 
coming  to  see  me  ?  " 

As  it  chanced,  she  was   studying   the  sign  of 


CIPHERS.  71 

"Champion  and  Breck,  architects,"  but  she  at  once 
transferred  her  full  attention  to  the  solicitor,  held 
out  her  hand,  and  said,  — 

"  Of  course  I  was  coming  to  see  you.  There 
are  twenty  things  I  wish  to  consult  you  about. 
Are  you  at  liberty  ?  " 

Not  to  have  been  at  liberty  to  devote  his  best 
powers  to  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  would  have  been  to 
defeat  his  dearest  ambitions.  He  was  a  neat, 
carefully  dressed  man,  always  wearing  gray  tweeds 
which  heightened  the  pallid  effect  of  his  colorless 
face  and  closely  trimmed  white  beard  and  hair.  If 
lie  could  ever  have  been  said  to  glow  it  was  at  this 
moment,  as  he  led  the  way  to  his  private  room, 
placed  his  visitor  in  a  chair  with  the  light  on  her 
face,  and  waited  with  every  faculty  alert  to  find 
out  what  this  sudden  urgent  business  might  be. 
Although  he  was  the  least  imaginative  of  men,  his 
mind  with  far-reaching  speculation  had  instantly 
fastened  on  the  idea  that  she  was  thinking  of  a 
second  marriage. 

Milly,  being  a  woman,  also  had  her  intuitions, 
and  foreseeing  that  a  lynx-eyed  lawyer  would  trace 
the  least  of  her  actions  back  to  some  adequate 
course,  she  had  come  laden  with  a  memorandum 
book  full  of  accounts  which  she  declared  puzzled 
her.  She  wished  him  also  to  look  into  the  practi- 
cal workings  of  a  charity  which  she  had  endowed 
three  years  before,  to  which  she  was  now  urged  to 
make  further  contributions.  She  described  to 
him  the  importunities  of  worthy  people  who  be- 


72  CIPHERS. 

sieged  her,  waylaid  her,  and  extorted  money  almost 
by  force.  Letters,  notes,  and  messages  she  knew 
how  to  manage.  She  had,  she  told  Mr.  Venn,  en- 
gaged a  secretary  with  whom  she  spent  two  hours 
every  other  morning,  dictating  answers  which  were 
taken  down  in  shorthand  and  then  amplified  and 
printed  by  a  type-writer. 

"  Heaven  knows,"  she  said,  "  I  am  well  enough 
aware  that  I  deserve  little,  and  that  many  of  my 
fellow-mortals  deserve  much.  I  should  like  to 
feel  that  I  had  helped  some  human  being  to  a 
better  chance  for  living  well.  But  these  begging 
letters  !  They  confide  the  most  intimate  histories, 
and  explain  how  the  timely  present  of  fifty  or  a 
hundred,  even  five  dollars  can  raise  an  impover- 
ished existence  to  felicity.  One  person  wants  it  to 
pay  a  troublesome  debt ;  another  actually  needs  a 
new  gown  ;  while  ever  so  many  long  for  a  trip  to 
Europe." 

"  Refuse  them  all,  my  dear  madam  —  refuse 
them  all,"  said  Mr.  Venn.  "  They  are  all  impos- 
tors, every  one." 

"  But  then  it  is  so  hard  not  to  be  an  impostor," 
said  Milly.  "  Don't  you  ever  feel  like  an  impos- 
tor yourself,  Mr.  Venn  ?  " 

"  Good  God,  no,  my  dear  Mrs.  Childe.  What 
could  put  such  an  idea  into  your  head  ?  " 

"  It  very  often  comes  into  my  head  that  I  am 
an  impostor,"  said  Milly.  "  I  have  so  little 
chance  to  be  actual  and  real,  —  to  do  what  I  wish 
and  to  say  what  I  think  and  feel."  She  paused 
and  laughed.  "  I  see  I  surprise  you,  Mr.  Venn." 


CIPHERS.  73 

"  You  are  the  most  fortunate  woman  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,"  said  Mr.  Venn  with  conviction. 
"  You  can  do,  be,  say,  and  feel  whatever  you  in- 
cline to.  If  your  life  is  not  a  verity  it  must  be 
your  own  fault." 

"  That  is  what  I  say  to  myself,"  said  Milly, 
"  that  I  must  be  a  poor  creature  if  I  cannot  find 
some  real  pleasures,  and  appoint  myself  some  real 
duties,  in  the  world.  You  see  I  am  not  a  strong- 
minded  woman.  As  a  child  my  mother  governed 
me  absolutely.  Then  I  married  when  a  mere  un- 
formed girl,  and  I  was  so  anxious  to  please  my 
husband  and  his  family  that  I  bent  myself  double 
to  conform  to  every  request  made  of  me.  It  has 
all  shaped  me.  I  may  have  individual  impulses, 
but  I  am  timid.  I  still  feel  as  if  I  had  no  right 
to  decide  for  myself,  as  if  somebody  must  criticise 
or  laugh  at  me  —  You  see  I  make  you  my  father 
confessor  "  — 

She  put  out  her  hand  to  the  lawyer,  who  took 
it  awkwardly,  looking  at  her  with  a  wooden  coun- 
tenance, keeping  his  gaze  fixed  on  her  with  an  air 
of  expectation  as  if  certain  that  some  particular 
confidence  was  to  follow  this  introduction. 

"Well?  "he  said  finally. 

"  Well,  what  ?  "  she  returned,  laughing  and 
drawing  back  her  hand. 

"  Now  tell  me  what  you  actually  want  of  me," 
said  he.  "  This  is  mere  preamble." 

"  Oh,  you  are  so  deep,"  said  Milly,  still  laugh- 
ing. 


74  CIPHERS. 

"  But  there  is  something  else." 

"Nothing  in  the  world  except  that  it  had  oc- 
curred to  me  that  I  might  build  something,  and 
thus  fasten  on  some  interest  in  life." 

"  Build  something !  " 

"  Well,  renovate,  make  over,  what  you  will.  I 
think  I  should  like  to  have  a  new  country  house, 
after  some  pretty  modern  fashion  "  — 

"  Oh !  " 

"  People  live  so  artistically  nowadays,"  said 
Milly,  "  I  don't  see  why  I  should  not  have  a  cot- 
tage all  gables  and  bay  windows  and  chimneys  and 
oriels.  It  occurred  to  me  it  might  be  amusing  to 
consult  an  architect  about  making  over  one  of  my 
houses  according  to  the  new  ideas." 

"  I  suppose  you  own  a  hundred  houses." 

"  I  mean  one  of  those  I  live  in.  For  example, 
something  might  be  done  to  the  house  in  the  Berk- 
shire Hills,  or  would  it  be  better  to  build  a  new 
one?" 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Childe,  the  idea !  " 

"  Am  I  not  sufficiently  well  off  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  screwed  up  his 
lips. 

"  I  suppose  the  money  might  be  found." 

"  But  why  are  you  adverse  to  the  idea  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  adverse,  except  that  on  general  prin- 
ciples when  you  have  not  a  good  reason  for  doing 
a  certain  thing  you  have  a  good  reason  for  not 
doing  it." 

"  Why  not  put  it  the  other  way,  that  when  one 


CIPHERS.  75 

has  not  a  good  reason  for  not  doing  a  thing,  one 
has  a  good  reason  for  doing  it  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  belong  to  a  sex  which  delights  in 
paradox,  Airs.  Childe.  I  belong  to  a  sex  which 
prefers  explicit  facts." 

"  Then  I  may  as  well  announce  to  you  as  an 
explicit  fact  that  I  am  going  to  have  my  Berkshire 
house  changed  into  a  Queen  Anne." 

He  looked  at  her  quizzically,  rubbed  his  fore- 
head, then  tapped  it  reflectively  with  his  forefinger. 

"  She  has  got  an  idea  in  her  head,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

"  Of  course  I  have  got  an  idea  in  my  head," 
said  Milly.  "  Other  women  live  in  a  perfect 
whirlwind  of  devices  and  caprices.  Every  day  is 
full  of  events.  The  smallest  incident  of  their  ex- 
istence is  expanded  into  its  fullest  measure.  I  am 
so  dull  in  comparison.  I  read  too  much,  I  brood 
too  much.  I  think  of  a  thing  I  want  to  do  until 
I  see  through  it  and  beyond  it  and  realize  its  no- 
thingness. I  want  to  begin  and  do  things  without 
thought,  —  to  say  '  Unto  the  day,  the  day '  "  — 

"  Hum,  hum  !  "  said  Mr.  Venn,  raising  his  fore- 
finger and  shaking  it.  "  Had  you  thought,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Childe,  of  any  particular  architect  to 
whom  you  would  commit  your  house  ?  " 

She  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"  You  see  through  me,"  she  said.  "  I  throw 
myself  on  your  mercy." 

"  Is  it  Mr.  Champion  or  is  it  Mr.  Breck  ? "  he 
inquired,  smiling  grimly,  his  head  a  little  on  one 
side. 


76  CIPHERS. 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  Mr.  Champion  ?  " 

"  Oh,  middle-aged,  —  fifty  at  least,  faithful  but 
not  brilliant.  His  partner  is  said  to  have  all  the 
originality  in  the  firm." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  Mr.  Breck  ?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  against  the  young  man,  —  no- 
thing." 

"  Anything  to  his  good  ?  " 

"  Hitherto  he  has  not  existed  to  me  except  as  a 
good-looking  boy  whom  I  meet  occasionally  on  the 
stairs." 

"Mr.  Venn!" 

"  Mrs.  Childe." 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  then.  He  had 
never  quite  taken  the  measure  of  his  client,  whom 
he  considered  inscrutable,  but  now  her  trust  in  him 
was  so  naive  his  sympathy  was  stirred.  She  wore 
the  gray  dress  she  had  on  at  Holly  Ruff's  rooms, 
but  to-day  a  small  bonnet  had  replaced  the  broad- 
brimmed  hat.  She  was  certainly  the  prettiest 
woman  he  had  ever  seen.  Although  he  had  a 
wife  and  four  daughters  he  felt  half  jealous  of  the 
boyish-looking  architect. 

"Could  there  be  any  harm  in  my  calling  on 
Mr.  Breck  and  requesting  him  to  make  me  some 
plans  ?  "  she  now  inquired. 

"  Harm  ?  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  I  take 
it  you  are  acquainted  with  the  young  man." 

"  I  have  met  him,"  said  Milly ;  "  in  fact,  he 
interests  me,  and  I  should  like  to  help  him.  I 
wanted  to  be  sure  there  was  no  harm  in  it." 


CIPHERS.  77 

"  Harm  ?  Very  charitable,  most  laudable  ;  not 
but  that  Champion  &  Breck  have  plenty  of  busi- 
ness." 

"  Would  you,  perhaps,  go  with  me  to  see  him, 
Mr.  Venn?" 

Mr.  Venn  would  have  liked  nothing  better,  but 
he  was  the  soul  of  discretion,  and  he  believed  his 
client  would  prefer  to  go  alone. 

"  If  you  required  my  services,"  he  said,  "  I  should 
be  most  happy  to  accompany  you  ;  as  it  is,  you  do 
not  need  me.  It  is  simply  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  for  you,  on  your  way  out,  to  knock 
at  Mr.  Breck's  door,  and  stop  for  a  moment  to 
consult  him." 

"You  see  nothing  out  of  the  way  in  my 
going  ?  " 

"  Nothing  out  of  the  way  whatever." 

She  rose  at  once,  drawing  the  fluffy  boa  closer 
to  her  throat,  looking  so  youthful  and  so  pretty  he 
had  a  feeling  that  he  was,  perhaps,  permitting 
an  indiscretion.  It  might  after  all  do  harm,  —  it 
might  put  ideas  into  the  young  fellow's  head. 
He  wished  he  had  not  committed  himself  to  this 
course.  He  meant  never  to  decide  anything  with- 
out due  reflection,  and,  alas,  now  that  he  had 
reassured  her  as  to  the  propriety  of  her  mission 
she  seemed  in  frantic  haste.  She  shook  hands 
with  him,  laughed,  and  murmured  something 
about  his  goodness  to  her.  He  stiffened  with  a 
sort  of  displeasure  as  he  let  her  out,  escorted  her 
for  three  steps,  then  with  a  cool  "  I  bid  you  good- 


78  CIPHERS. 

day,  Mrs.  Childe,"  turned  on  his  heel,  went  back, 
and  closed  the  door.  He  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  reflecting  that  a  lawyer's  responsibilities 
are  heavy ;  that  just  as  his  observation  and  insight 
are  finer  than  those  of  other  men,  so  he  ought 
more  carefully  never  to  — 

A  knock  sounded  on  the  panel. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said  gruffly,  expecting  a  clerk, 
and  thinking  of  the  fair  apparition  probably  at 
this  moment  dawning  upon  Breck  in  his  atelier. 

The  door  opened,  and  there  stood  Mrs.  Childe, 
her  eyes  brighter  than  ever  and  her  cheeks  more 
rosy. 

"  He  was  not  in  ?  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Venn. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  under  her  breath. 
She  entered  and  shut  the  door.  "My  courage 
failed  me,"  she  explained.  "I  kept  saying  to 
myself  that  I  was  twenty-seven  years  old,  a  mar- 
ried woman,  and  that  Mr.  Venn  had  assured  me  it 
was  absolutely  proper ;  but,  nevertheless,  just  as  I 
lifted  my  hand  to  knock,  I  turned  and  precipi- 
tately fled." 

"Shall  I  accompany  you?"  inquired  Mr.  Venn. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  kindly  ask  Mr.  Breck  to  call 
upon  me  at  my  own  house,"  said  Milly. 

Mr.  Venn  escorted  his  client  to  her  carriage. 

"  It  is  deeper  than  I  supposed,"  he  said  to  him- 
self as  she  drove  away ;  "  I  must  inquire  into  that 
young  man's  antecedents.  I  wonder  who  knows 
him." 

Milly,  on  her  way  up-town,  had  ample  time  to 


CIPHERS.  79 

think  over  her  senseless  panic.  Holly  Ruff  had 
told  Sidney  Breck  there  were  a  dozen  women  in 
her.  She  clearly  recognized  in  herself  two  identi- 
ties, —  one,  Emily  Briggs,  and  the  other,  Milly 
Childe.  The  first,  the  actual  woman,  —  timid, 
shrinking,  passionate  and  enthusiastic ;  the  other, 
the  woman  she  aimed  to  be,  —  forever  on  guard, 
with  a  humorous,  satiric,  almost  disdainful  convic- 
tion of  the  littleness  of  the  world  and  the  funda- 
mental nothingness  of  social  ambitions  and  social 
forms.  She  declared  to  herself  that  she  had  no 
compunctions  ;  she  had  been  brow-beaten,  laughed 
at,  ignored,  and  made  uncomfortable  by  shrewish, 
rude,  and  pushing  women  when  she  first  entered 
the  world  as  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  ;  she  had  felt  her- 
self to  be  ignominiously  beaten,  and  when,  finally, 
she  gained  the  requisite  inspiration  and  energy, 
she  had  decided  to  have  her  turn.  "  With  a  great 
sum  obtained  I  this  freedom,"  she  sometimes  said 
to  herself,  quoting  St.  Paul  with  a  difference, 
remembering  her  early  disappointments,  renunci- 
ations, despairs.  One  day  she  had  clung  to  her 
husband  with  passionate  entreaties  that  she  might 
no  longer  be  dragged  into  the  society  she  shrank 
from,  believing  in  her  own  hopeless  insignificance. 
Lee  Childe  had  stroked  her  hair,  with  a  half- 
pitying  laugh.  "Why,  Milly,"  said  he,  "you 
have  as  much  intellect,  as  much  good  looks,  and 
certainly  you  have  more  money  than  the  most 
impudent  of  the  women  who  you  say  frighten 
you  out  of  your  senses.  Beat  them  at  their  own 
game." 


80  CIPHERS. 

The  germ  of  the  change  in  her  had  dated  from 
that  hour.  The  young  and  ardent  mind  gathered 
its  forces.  She  was  eager  to  improve,  and  she 
developed,  finding  infinite  invitation  beckon  her 
from  the  charming  world  from  which  she  had 
hitherto  felt  herself  shut  out.  She  accepted  cer- 
tain axioms  of  her  husband's  as  definitions  of  her 
own  shortcomings.  She  must  learn  never  to  show 
agitation;  never  to  permit  anything  to  excite  or 
over-hurry  her.  She  must  distinguish  herself 
from  others;  must  create  a  distinctive  style  and 
adhere  to  it,  yet  must  never  seem  to  stand 
alone  or  apart;  must  rule  a  coterie,  yet  never 
seem  to  insist  on  being  the  first ;  must  be  comply- 
ing, yet  actually  must  concede  nothing;  must 
study  everything,  penetrate  everywhere,  keep  her- 
self in  touch  with  all  that  moves,  yet  must  not  be 
too  anxious  to  communicate  her  ideas  of  things  to 
others,  —  must  be  more  eager  to  accept  with  swift 
and  unerring  intuition  what  others  communicate. 
Since  there  is  no  such  unerring  test  of  culture  and 
character  as  what  is  found  amusing  or  ridiculous, 
it  is  best  generally  to  be  serious. 

"  No  man  would  talk  much  in  society  if  he  re- 
membered how  infernally  it  bored  him  to  listen  to 
other  men,"  was  another  aphorism  of  Lee  Childe's. 

But  when  Milly  had  in  a  measure  attained 
the  knowledge  she  sought  she  was  amazed  to  find 
it  a  barren  vantage-ground.  As  soon  as  she  could 
hold  her  own  against  the  encroachments  of  her 
supposed  enemies,  she  laughed  to  see  how  little 


CIPHEES.  81 

formidable  they  actually  were.  She  had  been 
studying  nights  and  days  to  be  the  equal  of  those 
brilliant,  world-wide,  subtle  men  and  women,  — 
who,  she  now  perceived,  lived  chiefly  by  catch  words 
and  hearsays,  always  in  hopes  that  all  new  ideas 
outside  of  routine  would  "  blow  over  "  so  that  they 
need  not  be  troubled  with  painful  conundrums. 
If  Milly  was  driven  into  an  attitude  of  skepticism 
and  disdain  of  society,  it  was  by  the  necessity  of 
expressing  her  faith  in  something  better  than  she 
had  so  far  found.  The  closer  the  horizons  came 
which  had  once  seemed  so  remote,  the  more  she 
grew  in  what  is  called  knowledge  of  the  world,  the 
better  she  recognized  restrictions  and  limitations 
which  she  longed  to  leap  over  into  nature  and 
freedom.  But  how  was  she  to  escape  from  the 
circle  in  which  she  constantly  retraced  her  own 
steps  ? 

She  was  in  this  mood,  disenchanted,  dissatisfied, 
wrestling  with  herself  and  her  environment  to  find 
out  the  word  of  her  enigma,  when  she  met  Sidney 
Breck.  The  incident  of  the  serenade  had  touched 
sensibilities  long  dormant.  His  few  words  on  the 
following  day  had  deepened  the  impression.  What 
she  longed  for  was  to  meet  him  without  constraint ; 
to  hear  him  talk,  to  find  the  clue  to  his  personality. 
Little  as  he  had  so  far  said,  she  realized  that  he 
was  ready  to  give  her  the  real  outcome  of  his 
thoughts.  He  seemed  to  her  fresh,  bright,  and 
unspoiled.  Her  husband's  characteristic  tendency 
bad  been  never  to  give  her  his  real  thoughts. 


82  CIPHEES. 

Taciturn,  irritable,  skeptical,  incredulous,  he  had 
met  all  experiences  with  a  shrug,  his  impressions  of 
the  outside  world  warped  and  colored  by  his  self- 
limited  observation. 

What  wonder  was  it  that  in  her  rebound  from 
the  long  cramp  of  hopeless  pessimism  Milly  should 
have  wished  to  know  some  one  like  Breck,  who  was 
the  soul  of  candor  and  found  every  experience  in 
life  full  of  interest  ?  She  was,  however,  far  from 
acknowledging  the  significance  of  her  interest  in 
him,  and  argued,  with  all  the  casuistries  of  which 
a  clever  woman's  heart  and  head  are  capable,  that 
she  was  merely  acting  out  the  role  she  had  im- 
posed upon  herself,  and  seizing  upon  anything 
which  seemed  pleasant  and  to  her  own  advantage. 
Selfish  as  this  sounded,  her  impulse,  she  declared, 
was  to  do  something  for  the  young  man's  financial 
advantage.  She  would  give  him  her  country 
house  to  tear  to  pieces  and  build  anew  as  he 
chose.  She  congratulated  herself  that  nobody 
except  Mr.  Joshua  Venn  suspected  her  girlish  fluc- 
tuations of  feeling,  her  going  forward  and  back, 
and  blushing  over  the  simple  matter  of  calling  in 
an  architect.  Mr.  Venn  did  not  count,  as  he  knew 
all  her  indiscretions,  and  might  sum  up  this  along 
with  the  mistakes  in  her  accounts  and  her  bad 
management  in  her  charities. 

She  had  not,  however,  been  unobserved  either 
time  she  stood  before  the  door  of  Champion  & 
Breck.  Such  apparitions  in  a  shimmer  of  silver 
gray  did  not  often  wander  irresolutely  up  and 


CIPHEES.  83 

down  the  corridors  of  that  centre  of  driving  busi- 
ness. Thus  Sidney  Breck  had  heard  that  the  rich 
widow  had  twice  stood  at  his  door,  apparently  ready 
to  knock  and  ask  for  admittance,  before  Mr.  Venn 
dropped  in  at  the  architects'  office  and  dryly  in- 
formed the  junior  partner  that  Mrs.  Lee  Childe,  of 
Stuyvesant  Square,  wished  to  consult  him  about 
remodeling  her  house  among  the  Berkshire  hills. 
The  lawyer  looked  round  the  place,  which  was 
hung  with  plans,  etchings,  photographs,  and  a 
painting  representing  the  Ducal  Palace  in  Venice. 
Half-a-dozen  men  were  at  work  at  different  desks 
and  tables,  of  whom  Sidney  Breck  was  the  busiest. 

"  Shall  I  go  to-morrow  ? "  he  inquired  with  a 
startled  air. 

"  No  time  was  specified,"  said  Mr.  Venn. 

"  Please  tell  me  exactly  when  to  go,"  said  Breck, 
so  humbly  that  the  lawyer  was  impressed  by  the 
guilelessness  of  the  lamb  destined  for  the  sac- 
rifice. 

It  was  two  mornings  later  that  the  architect 
was  ushered  into  the  Childe  house  and  found 
Milly  sitting  in  the  library  with  her  father-in-law. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  for  coming,"  she  said,  rising, 
and  giving  him  her  hand.  "  Papa,  you  remember 
Mr.  Breck?  Mr.  Venn  and  I  are  discussing  the 
propriety  of  making  some  improvements  in  my 
Berkshire  house." 

"  I  know  what  that  means,"  said  Mr.  Childe,  — 

"  that  you  will  go  to expense  and  spoil  a  fine 

old-fashioned  mansion." 


84  CIPHERS. 

"  Exactly ;  one  cannot  make  one's  self  over,  — 
one  is  so  dreadfully  restricted  when  one's  identity 
is  concerned,  bat  one  may  tear  down  and  rebuild  a 
house.  Besides,  one  likes  to  have  something  dis- 
tinctive. Now  my  house  in  Berkshire  is  neither 
mediaeval  nor  early  English,  nor  Elizabethan  nor 
Gothic  nor  Queen  Anne." 

"  Thank  Heaven  I  shall  not  have  to  live  in  it,  nor 
even  to  pay  the  bills,"  said  Mr.  Childe ;  indeed, 
paying  bills  had  always  been  one  of  the  social 
annoyances  he  had  shirked.  "  If  you  want  to  con- 
sult me  I  shall  be  in  the  next  room,"  and  gathering 
up  the  morning  papers  he  left  the  library. 

The  young  widow  and  the  young  architect  stood 
side  by  side  on  the  hearth-rug ;  both  were  smiling, 
and  for  a  moment  neither  had  anything  to  say ; 
then  Milly  began  :  — 

"I  have  laughed  to  remember  how  Mr.  Ruff's 
party  was  spoiled  for  him.  He  is  clever,  literary, 
exclusive ;  why  did  he  invite  fashionable  people  ? 
Did  he  fume  and  rage  after  we  were  gone  ?  " 

"  He  said  some  very  good  things,"  replied  Breck ; 
"  indeed,  he  filled  his  note-book  and  has  been  in 
a  bland  humor  ever  since." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  that  note-book.  Still,  it 
might  throw  my  sympathies  on  the  side  of  Mr. 
Norreys." 

"  Mine  are  there  already.  I  have  a  great  respect 
for  such  an  expert  in  the  art  of  living." 

"You  are  more  good-natured  than  I  am,"  said 
Milly.  "  I  feel  like  sending  him  across  Africa  or 


CIPHERS.  85 

on  an  Arctic  voyage.  I  like  etiquette  very  well  in 
its  place  "  — 

"  I  have  always  wished  one  might  formulate  its 
rules  as  one  does  the  laws  of  whist,  in  order  to 
understand  how  to  lead  and  how  to  follow,  and 
above  all  how  to  finesse,"  said  Breck. 

"When  conventionalities  are  made  too  much 
of,"  pursued  Milly,  "  I  belong  to  the  opposition  and 
long  to  go  on  all  fours.  Still,  I  admit,  some  rules 
of  politeness  are  graceful.  I  have  not  yet  asked 
you  to  sit  down." 

She  dropped  into  a  seat  by  the  table  and  he  took 
a  chair  opposite. 

"  I  might  say,"  she  went  on,  "  that  I  learned 
etiquette  much  as  I  learned  whist.  My  own  mother 
feared  above  all  things  that  I  might  grow  to  love 
the  things  of  this  world  too  dearly,  and  if  she  gave 
me  a  rule  of  behavior  she  gave  also  its  antidote  by 
showing  me  that  forms  were  of  no  consequence,  — 
that  the  heart  and  spirit  alone  must  be  kept  aright. 
It  was  after  my  marriage  that  I  found  out  the  con- 
venience of  a  definite  knowledge  of  forms,  and  as  a 
rule  I  stick  to  forms ;  yet  I  never  have  the  comfort 
of  feeling  that  forms  will  save  me." 

He  was  looking  at  her  so  intently  that  she 
paused,  expecting  him  to  speak ;  after  waiting  a 
moment,  she  proceeded :  "  Sometimes,  it  is  true, 
I  say  to  myself,  '  I  cannot  please  everybody  and 
myself  into  the  bargain,  so  I  will  please  my- 
self.' " 

"  One's  self  is  such  a  formidable  person  to  please," 


86  CIPHERS. 

said  Breck,  "  one  soon  gives  it  up  and  accepts  al- 
most any  tyrant  in  its  place." 

"Do  not  discourage  me,"  said  Milly,  "for  now 
I  want  to  please  myself.  I  want  to  make  over  my 
house." 

"  That  is  a  most  laudable  ambition.  I  must  go 
and  look  at  the  house  in  Berkshire  county." 

"  An  impossible  journey  at  this  time  of  the  year, 
with  two  feet  of  snow  on  the  ground.  I  will  sketch 
the  house  for  you.  Have  you  a  pencil  ?  " 

There  was  a  litter  of  cards  and  notes  of  invita- 
tion on  the  table,  and  she  took  up  a  large  square 
of  pasteboard  and  began  to  draw  on  the  blank  side, 
talking  all  the  time,  telling  him  of  a  winter  she 
had  once  passed  at  the  place  when  the  roads  were 
blocked  with  snow  and  she  was  for  a  fortnight 
almost  completely  cut  off  from  the  outside  world. 
"  There  it  is,"  she  said,  giving  him  the  sketch. 
"  It  was  built  for  a  summer  residence,  and  is  all 
balconies  and  windows.  There  is  an  effect  of  large- 
ness and  light  about  it  which  I  rather  enjoy." 

He  was  struck  by  the  cleverness  of  the  drawing, 
which  was  executed  with  vigorous  telling  strokes 
and  the  precision  of  a  practiced  draughtsman. 
The  house  as  it  was  pleased  him  so  well  that  he 
was  reluctant  to  suggest  any  alteration  which 
might  improve  it.  While  he  was  studying  the 
sketch  she  said  eagerly  :  — 

.  "  I  was  interested  in  what  you  told  me  about 
having  set  out  to  be  a  painter.  You  evidently 
loved  your  art ;  I  have  wondered  why  you  gave  it 
up?" 


CIPHERS.  87 

"  I  was  obliged  to  make  an  income,"  said  Breck. 

"  But  surely  your  pictures  would  soon  have  given 
you  a  living." 

"  I  was  young,  —  I  could  not  wait  to  conquer 
my  public,"  said  Breck.  "  It  was  like  this,"  —  he 
looked  her  fairly  in  the  face  and  smiled :  "  I  have 
a  sister  older  than  myself.  There  are  just  the  two 
of  us.  Our  father  died  when  I  was  ten,  my  mother 
six  years  later.  When  I  was  seventeen  my  sister 
married  and  soon  afterwards  I  went  to  Paris.  I 
was  twenty-two  when  her  husband  died  suddenly 
during  a  commercial  crisis  in  which  he  had  lost 
everything,  not  only  his  money  but  hers.  She  had 
three  children." 

"  Ah,  I  see,"  said  Milly  with  a  quick  sigh. 
"  You  went  to  work  to  support  her  and  her  chil- 
dren." 

"  I  came  home  at  once.  Of  course  I  had  to  set 
to  work.  I  had  had  just  enough  to  keep  myself 
during  those  five  years  in  Paris,  but  it  was  not 
enough  for  all  of  us.  I  was  ready  to  undertake 
anything  that  offered.  As  it  happened,  I  had 
already  studied  a  year  in  a  Boston  architect's 
office.  I  now  went  to  Mr.  Champion,  who  is  a  dis- 
tant cousin  of  ours,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  any 
opening  for  me.  He  told  me  that  plans  were  being 
offered  for  the  new  Phoenix  Building,  and  that 
here  was  a  chance  to  show  what  I  could  do.  So  I 
competed.  The  judges  accepted  my  design,  and 
Mr.  Champion  offered  me  a  partnership.  So  there 
I  have  been  for  six  years." 


88  CIPHERS. 

"  Tell  me  about  your  sister.  Does  she  live  in 
New  York?" 

"  She  was  married  last  year  to  a  man  in  San 
Francisco." 

"You  made  all  that  sacrifice  for  her,  yet  she 
married  and  left  you  ?  " 

"  I  was  very  glad  to  have  her  marry.  She  was 
only  thirty,  and  her  present  husband  is  a  fine  fel- 
low with  large  means,  and  not  only  adores  her  but 
her  three  children." 

"  You  are  not  married  ?  "  Milly  asked  suddenly. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  have  never  thought  of  marrying," 
said  Breck,  reddening  to  his  ears.  "  I  have  a 
room  just  round  the  corner  from  here.  While  my 
sister  was  with  me  we  had  a  little  house  miles  up- 
town. Naturally  I  was  lonely  when  she  went 
away.  I  especially  missed  her  two  youngest  chil- 
dren, who  were  very  fond  of  me." 

"  You  speak  as  if  all  this  were  nothing  particu- 
lar," said  Milly,  with  an  eloquent  face,  "  and  yet 
you  resigned  a  career  which  might  have  given  you 
a  great  success." 

"  Perhaps  it  seems  to  you  sordid  in  me  to  give 
up  my  art  for  a  livelihood,"  said  Breck  ;  "  but  you 
cannot  think  exactly  how  a  man  feels  when  he  has 
a  family  dependent  on  him,  and  he  has  to  turn 
swiftly  towards  any  horizon  seeking  for  some  path 
which  leads  not  to  fortune,  but  to  a  bare  living. 
Of  course  it  hurt  me,  —  that  is,  it  would  have  hurt 
me  if  I  had  stopped  to  think  about  it.  But  I  did 
not  stop.  I  was  never  in  all  my  life  so  happy  as 


CIPHERS.  89 

when  my  design  was  accepted.  I  was  so  happy 
that  I  could  not  sleep.  For  three  nights  I  could 
not  sleep.  You  see  I  was  so  anxious  about  poor 
Alice,  — :  her  baby  was  only  six  months  old.  A 
man's  personal  prepossessions,  tastes,  cravings,  do 
not  count  for  much  in  such  crises." 

She  did  not  answer  except  that  lips,  eyes,  and  the 
flush  on  her  cheeks  had  a  significance  of  their  own. 

"  I  look  at  pictures  with  a  thought  of  my  un- 
painted  ones,"  said  Breck.  "  Sometimes  I  see  one 
that  reminds  me  of  some  sketch  of  my  own.  But 
after  all,  I  might  never  have  had  any  distinction 
as  a  painter.  Some  of  my  work  was  a  good  deal 
praised,  and  I  obtained  several  medals  ;  but  nobody 
knows  exactly  what  is  in  an  artist  until  he  has 
passed  a  certain  point.  It  is  fairly  astonishing 
how  many  fellows  seem  at  first  to  have  greatness 
in  them.  But  some  mental  limitation  comes  in 
and  hinders  development." 

He  paused  again,  and  their  eyes  met. 

"  I  am  grateful  to  architecture,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
have  never  been  disinterested.  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  put  my  head  to  it  and  work  with  all  my 
might,  and  I  have  done  so.  No  great  opportunity 
has  come  in  rny  way,  but  they  may  come.  In  fact, 
we  have  some  fair  chances ;  we  have  been  design- 
ing some  Newport  cottages." 

"Whose?" 

"  The  Poorshaws'  and  Mrs.  Geddes'." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  I  am  so  glad.  That  is  a  good 
chance,  I  atn  sure." 


90  CIPHERS. 

Breck  laughed.  "  Of  course  what  I  want  to  do 
is  to  build  a  Gothic  cathedral,"  he  said.  "  But  I 
am  not  likely  ever  to  have  one  of  the  opportunities 
which  set  the  spirit  free.  I  have  to  clip '  my  ima- 
gination and  accept  thankfully  Queen  Anne  cot- 
tages, or  whatever  comes  in  my  way." 

"  Could  you  not  begin  again  now  to  be  a 
painter  ?  " 

"  No,  I  shall  not  go  forward  and  back.  Indeed, 
I  have  gradually  taught  myself  to  believe  that  it 
is  best  as  it  is.  At  any  rate,  I  have  escaped  dis- 
enchantment and  failure.  There  is  a  time  when 
every  young  fellow  considers  himself  a  genius,  but 
bit  by  bit,  with  relentless  clearness,  fate  tells  the 
truth.  Many  men  allow  themselves  to  be  deceived 
by  the  little  talent  they  possess,  which  often  is  just 
enough  to  obscure  the  actual  facts  and  make  it 
seem  worth  while  to  go  on.  I  rejoice  that  I  am 
not  one  of  those  self-deceivers." 

"  All  this  shows  some  resolution  on  your  part." 

"  I  have  got  plenty  of  resolution  and  plenty  of 
energy.  A  man  can  hardly  fail  to  have  whose 
duty  is  put  before  him  as  mine  was  put  before  me. 
Besides,  I  have  a  bent  towards  architecture,  and  I 
achieved  a  certain  degree  of  success  at  once,"  said 
Breck.  "  It  is  working  with  an  insufficient  talent, 
out  of  dilettanteism  or  in  some  false  direction, 
which  robs  a  man  of  his  native  strength.  An  in- 
sufficient talent  is  the  cruelest  of  gifts." 

He  had  talked  eagerly,  as  if  he  longed  to  make 
a  full  confession,  but  at  this  moment  some  realiza- 


CIPHERS.  91 

tion  of  the  fact  that  he  had  simply  been  sum- 
moned on  professional  business  by  a  rich  woman 
who  needed  his  services  plucked  at  his  mind 
with  a  clear  reminder  that  he  was  making  himself 
absurd. 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  he,  with  sudden  shyness. 
"  I  cannot  think  what  made  me  forget  myself ; 
I  never  talked  like  this  before." 

Milly  stretched  out  her  warm  white  hand,  and 
put  it  on  his.  "  I  forgive  you,"  she  said.  "  No- 
body ever  talked  to  me  like  this  before." 

Breck  looked  at  the  hand,  which  was  withdrawn 
as  swiftly  as  it  came. 

"That  is  because  you  have  known  no  poor 
man,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  said  Milly,  "  whether  I  pity 
you,  or  whether  I  consider  you  singularly  fortu- 
nate. It  is  cruel  that  a  beautiful  talent  should 
be  crushed  without  scruple;  but,  on  the  other 
hand"  — 

"On  the  other  hand,"  said  Breck,  laughing, 
"  you  respect  honest  poverty." 

"  I  should  like  to  give  you  a  cathedral  to  build," 
said  Milly. 

"Safer  to  give  me  a  gable,"  said  Breck.  As 
he  spoke  he  took  up  the  sketch  she  had  made, 
studied  it  for  a  moment,  and  asked  if  he  might 
take  it  away  with  him.  The  day  after  the  morrow 
he  was  to  call  again,  make  some  suggestions,  and 
receive  hers. 


V. 

IT  would  have  been  inconsistent  with  Holly 
Ruff's  aptitude  for  timely  work  if  he  had  always 
been  a  laggard  in  love,  and  thus  he  decided  soon 
after  his  afternoon  tea  that  the  time  had  come  for 
him  to  strike  his  blow.  The  gay  season  would 
shortly  open,  and  once  in  the  whirl  Mrs.  Lee 
Childe  was  sure  to  be  so  occupied,  surrounded, 
monopolized,  she  would  have  no  leisure  to  think 
consecutively  nor  to  act  on  her  best  judgment. 
Perhaps  Ruff's  recent  experience  had  taught  him 
that  even  an  insignificant  rival  may  hamper  the 
cleverest  man's  free  play.  Indeed,  a  conven- 
tional being  of  Whiley  Norreys's  sort,  Ruff  was 
now  ready  to  confess,  has  it  in  his  power  to  extin- 
guish better  men,  just  as  a  fog  may  put  out  elec- 
tric lights.  Norreys  carried  weight  in  society  and 
always  held  his  own,  partly  because  he  came  from 
a  family  who  for  generations  had  sat  down  solidly 
and  maintained  their  superiority  to  the  rest  of  the 
world,  and  partly  because,  with  an  inordinate 
vanity  and  activity,  he  was  always  ready  to  secure 
every  advantage  that  any  occasion  offered.  He 
was  by  this  time  well  past  forty-five,  yet  his  years 
had  robbed  him  of  nothing,  had  but  given  him  a 
complete  knowledge  of  how  to  get  what  he  wanted 
out  of  life.  Impossible  to  forget  him  or  to  slight 


CIPHERS.  93 

him,  for  he  was  everywhere  pliant,  assiduous,  de- 
voted, always  offering  attentions  to  which  nobody 
could  be  callous.  And  if,  according  to  his  detract- 
ors, he  had  never  had  an  original  idea,  it  must  be 
confessed  that  he  knew  very  well  how  to  present 
ready-made  phrases  which  pass  current  among 
well-bred  people,  and  he  often  had  the  grace  to 
say  the  timely  thing,  while  cleverer  men  went  too 
far  in  search  of  an  illustration  and  wiser  men 
could  not  collect  their  fugitive  wits. 

Thus  ran  his  rival's  meditations,  for  ever  since 
that  occasion  when  Whiley  Norreys  carried  off  the 
honors,  Holly  Ruff  could  not  get  the  man  out  of 
his  head.  Day  by  day,  as  Ruff  reflected  that  Mrs. 
Childe  was  probably  attending  dinners,  receptions, 
and  the  opera,  and  that  Whiley  Norreys,  fault- 
lessly dressed,  was  always  on  hand  and  always 
pressing  forward  with  something  to  say,  he  suf- 
fered. And  Whiley  Norreys  was  not  the  only  one 
who  danced  attendance  upon  the  young  widow: 
there  were  Paul  Secor  and  Archy  Laing,  to  say 
nothing  of  Geddes  Poorshaw,  all  three  of  whom 
belonged  to  the  Childe  or  Lee  connections,  and  had 
the  run  of  the  house.  Then,  looking  further  afield 
for  dangers,  the  newspapers  were  heralding  the 
fact  that  all  feminine  New  York  was  in  a  flutter 
over  the  expected  arrival  of  Lord  Pompelli  and  the 
Hon.  Wilfrid  Crashaw.  They  had  been  bear- 
hunting  in  Dakota,  but  were  now  on  their  way- 
east,  intending  to  spend  the  season  in  New  York. 

Thus,  it  behooved  any  man,  who  was  in  a  posi- 


94  CIPHERS. 

tion  to  speak,  to  speak  and  at  once.  Holly  deter- 
mined to  put  an  end  to  his  uncertainty,  for  in 
spite  of  his  logical  claims  upon  Mrs.  Lee  Childe 
he  did  not  pretend  to  absolute  certainty. 

"  Offering  one's  self  to  a  woman  is  like  tossing 
one's  self  up,  and  not  knowing  whether  one  will 
come  down  heads  or  tails,"  he  wrote  in  his  note- 
book in  these  days. 

Sunday  was  Mrs.  Childe's  day ;  Mrs.  Fletcher 
and  Georgy  Hurst  invariably  came  in  after  morn- 
ing service,  spent  the  afternoon,  and  partook  of 
the  foui'-o'clock  dinner,  which  was  the  old-fashioned 
habit  of  the  house.  They  were  the  nucleus  of  a 
family  party  which  sometimes  drew  a  long  tail 
after  it,  and  included  the  whole  connection. 

One  Sunday,  just  past  the  middle  of  December, 
Holly  Ruff  entered  at  three  o'clock,  and  found 
Mrs.  Fletcher  sitting  before  the  fire  with  Mr. 
Childe,  while  Georgy  Hurst  was  ensconced  on  a 
sofa  opposite,  engaged  in  entertaining  three  or  four 
of  the  cousins.  It  was  explained  to  Ruff  that 
Mrs.  Lee  Childe  was  in  the  conservatory,  show- 
ing some  new  orchids  to  Mrs.  Crooke  Poorshaw. 
Accordingly,  with  an  air  of  established  habit,  he 
sat  down  and  took  up  a  book.  Although  he 
turned  the  pages,  and  once  or  twice  made  a  note, 
his  thoughts  were  busy  on  his  own  personal  affairs, 
and  he  also  had  an  ear  for  the  scraps  of  conver- 
sation which  from  either  hand  floated  to  his  ears. 

Mr.  Childe  was  discoursing  on  his  favorite  topic, 
the  New  York  of  his  infancy,  —  a  very  superior 
city  to  modem  New  York. 


CIPHERS.  95 

"  I  remember,"  he  said,  "  when  an  ice-cream 
man  used  to  go  about  ringing  a  bell.  He  used  to 
come  up  Broadway  and  down  Bleecker,  and  then 
into  Washington  Square,  and  very  convenient  it 
was." 

"  Just  fancy,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

"There  was  a  simplicity,  a  dignity  about  life 
in  those  days,  —  a  right  up-and-down  solidity  of 
comfort." 

"But,  cousin  Rutherford,"  Mrs.  Fletcher  ven- 
tured, "  it  does  seem  to  me  that  we  are  actually 
more  comfortable  nowadays.  Just  take  the  mat- 
ter of  lights.  I  remember  when  we  considered  it 
a  horrible  extravagance  to  burn  more  than  two 
candles  except  on  company  nights." 

"  It  gave  people  a  chance  to  talk.  There  were 
not  so  many  books  to  read  then,  and  we  could 
compare  ideas,  —  in  fact,  become  really  acquainted 
with  each  other." 

"  Then  we  were  so  cold,"  Mrs.  Fletcher  contin- 
ued.  "  It  makes  me  shiver  to  think  of  it.  I  re- 
member sitting  waiting  for  people  to  come  to  a 
ball  with  my  arms  all  goose-pimples." 

"  Nowadays  the  rooms  are  so  hot  I  never  have 
an  appetite.  To  go  to  any  place  of  amusement  is 
to  endure  the  experience  of  Shadrach,  Meschach, 
and  Abednego.  As  to  attending  church,  it  is  out 
of  the  question.  I  prefer  to  sleep  at  home." 

"  I  remember  my  mother's  telling  me  once  when 
I  asked  her  how  she  used  to  dress  as  a  girl,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Fletcher,  "  that  she  could  only  recall 


96  CIPHERS. 

one  circumstance.  They  lived  on  Bowling  Green, 
and  on  Sundays  always  walked  to  Old  Trinity. 
She  remembered  clearly  how  once  on  her  way 
home,  when  she  had  her  future  husband  in  attend- 
ance, there  was  deep  snow  melting,  she  constantly 
wet  her  feet  in  little  pools  of  water,  and,  also,  that 
she  had  on  a  white  embroidered  frock,  white  silk 
stockings,  and  low  slippers  cross-gartered." 

"  I  remember  your  mother  very  well,"  said  Mr. 
Childe  gallantly.  "  She  was  always  charming, 
whether  she  went  cross-gartered  or  otherwise." 

"  But  they  had  no  rubber  overshoes  in  those 
days ;  in  fact,  had  only  fine-weather  clothes.  Half 
the  people  died  of  consumption." 

"  Capital  plan,  —  left  room  in  the  world  for 
healthy  people.  Nowadays  everything  is  given 
over  to  invalids." 

"  I  remember  mamma's  saying  once  late  in  life," 
Mrs.  Fletcher  now  observed,  "  that  in  her  day  peo- 
ple used  to  stay  at  home  in  bad  weather,  so  that 
one  had  a  chance  to  write  up  one's  letters,  make 
up  one's  accounts,  and  read  one's  Bible  ;  but  that 
nowadays,  what  with  umbrellas,  waterproofs,  mack- 
intoshes, and  rubbers,  one  was  never  left  in  peace." 

"  Exactly !  There  is  no  peace  left  for  anybody 
in  the  world,"  said  Mr.  Childe  with  a  sigh. 

"  They  are  so  clever  nowadays,"  Mrs.  Fletcher 
pursued.  "  That  is  the  chief  fault  I  find  with  the 
new  generation,  —  so  many  new  ideas." 

"  My  dear  Agnes,  there  are  no  new  ideas,  and 
people  are  not  clever,"  said  Mr.  Childe,  "  When 


CIPHERS.  97 

I  was  a  boy  they  had  found  out  that  the  earth 
went  round  the  sun,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  talk 
that  goes  on  I  have  never  been  able  to  see  that 
they  had  actually  discovered  anything  else." 

"  But  the  telegraph,  —  the  telephone  "  — 

"  Much  better  off  without  them." 

"  But  think  of  not  having  foreign  news  until  it 
is  two  weeks  old  "  — 

"  It  would  be  an  immense  blessing.  Think  of 
the  stuff  they  send  by  cable,  —  that  Mr.  William 
O'Brien  is  lying  abed  because  he  will  not  put  on 
the  regulation  prison  breeches.  I  don't  care  in 
the  least  whether  he  goes  sans  culotte  or  not." 

"  I  should  like  to  think,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher 
plaintively,  "  that  some  of  the  new  ideas  were  not 
worth  having.  I  get  so  tired  of  being  dragged 
about  to  lectures  and  readings  and  all  the  rest  of 
it.  One  of  my  granddaughters  knows  what  un- 
differentiated  protoplasm  means." 

"  She  may  as  well  comfort  herself  with  that 
knowledge.  She  will  never  get  married.  A 
woman  who  compels  a  man  to  gauge  his  own  igno- 
rance goes  too  deep." 

"  I  remarked  to  Mary  that  Madame  Recamier 
knew  nothing  about  such  things,  and  that  she  knew 
enough  for  me." 

"  You  and  she  knew  how  to  charm  every  man 
who  came  near  you,  and  that  is  enough  for  a  rea- 
sonable woman's  ambition." 

At  this  point  Miss  Hurst's  voice  took  Ruff's  ear. 

"  Of  course   he  wants   to  marry  Milly  Childe. 


98  CIPHERS. 

Who  does  not  ?  She  could  have  the  pick  of  all 
of  you." 

"  Don't  make  us  out  so  mercenary,"  said  Geddes 
Poorshaw. 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  allude  to  you  bloated  million- 
aires. There  is  such  a  thing  as  honest  poverty." 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  it,  —  know  it  intimately," 
said  Archy  Laing.  "  If  honest  poverty  could  en- 
dear me  to  cousin  Milly,  I  would  willingly  turn 
my  pockets  inside  out  for  her  inspection." 

Mrs.  Fletcher's  voice  again  struck  in. 

"  I  never  saw  two  people  so  absolutely  suited  to 
each  other,  or  who  were  evidently  so  clearly  in- 
tended to  be  man  and  wife." 

"  Then  why  on  earth,"  demanded  Georgy  Hurst, 
*'  do  they  not  get  married,  aunt  Agnes  ?  " 

"  Because  her  husband,  contrary  being  that  he 
was,  chose  to  live ;  only  died  ten  years  ago." 

"  But  why  did  they  not  marry  after  his  death  ?  " 

"  Because  she  was  dead  herself,"  Mr.  Childe  ex- 
plained impressively.  "  She  must  have  died  ten 
years  before  he  did." 

"  They  are  always  talking  about  dead  people," 
Miss  Hurst  remarked  confidentially  to  her  own 
group.  "  I  suppose  that  when  I  get  to  be  a  hun- 
dred I  shall  spend  my  time  in  telling  what  charm- 
ing people  you  all  were." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Mr.  Childe  was  now  saying,  "  my 
wife  was  a  handsome  woman.  I  should  n't  have 
married  her  else." 

"  All  the  Lees  were  handsome.  But  she  was  far 
more  than  that." 


CIPHERS.  99 

"  Indeed  she  was,"  Mr.  Childe  granted  with 
feeling,  "  a  woman  of  inexhaustible  energy." 

"  A  wonderful  woman,  I  always  say  that  "  — • 

"  But  impossible  to  live  with,"  said  Mr.  Childe 
with  peculiar  significance.  "  I  am  the  most  domes- 
tic man  in  the  world,  but  —  However,  you  under- 
stood the  situation.  I  will  say  this  about  Milly, 
she  is  a  really  agreeable  person  to  have  opposite 
one  at  table." 

At  this  moment  Milly  herself  emerged  from  the 
conservatory  with  Mrs.  Crooke  Poorshaw,  Mrs. 
Geddes,  and  Paul  Se*cor.  It  was  a  veritable  gath- 
ering of  the  clan,  Holly  Ruff  said  to  himself.  He 
sat  down  by  Mrs.  Crooke  Poorshaw,  a  rather 
pretty  and  very  exquisitely  dressed  woman,  with  an 
ambition  to  attach  clever  men  to  her  following. 
She  stayed  to  dinner,  and  Holly  Ruff  not  only  had 
the  pleasure  of  sitting  by  her,  but  he  was  on  Mrs. 
Childe's  left.  He  was  in  a  position  to  shine,  and 
he  shone.  There  were  sixteen  people  at  table,  and 
they  all  listened  gratefully  to  his  discourse  through- 
out the  meal. 

"  Must  I  go  away  ?  "  he  asked  Mrs.  Lee  Childe, 
when,  within  an  hour  after  they  had  risen  from 
table,  one  member  of  the  party  after  another  had 
dropped  out  of  the  circle. 

"  Do  stay,"  said  Milly,  "  and  I  will  make  you  a 
cup  of  strong  tea." 

Presently  Mrs.  Fletcher  carried  off  Mr.  Childe 
to  her  own  Sunday  tea-table,  and  Milly  was  left 
alone  with  her  suitor.  She  had  accompanied  the 


100  CIPHERS. 

last  guests  to  the  door,  and  now  reentering  the 
parlors  walked  the  length  of  the  three ^great  rooms 
towards  Buff,  who  was  standing  on  the  hearth-rug 
before  the  fire  watching  her,  his  mien  as  ever  criti- 
cal and  alert.  How  well  she  moved,  he  thought 
to  himself ;  there  was  a  distinct  charm  about  her 
rapid  advance.  She  was  smiling,  and  he  was  cer- 
tain that  smile  promised  him  happiness. 

"  There  are  happy  moments  in  life.  People  go 
away,"  she  said  as  she  drew  nearer.  "  Nothing 
exhausts  me  like  a  family  party.  While  I  am 
talking  about  all  sorts  of  things  for  which  I  care 
nothing,  listening  to  everybody's  solemn  confi- 
dences, being  asked  questions  I  know  not  how  to 
answer,  and  would  not  answer  if  I  could,  I  say  to 
myself,  — 

"  '  If  I  be  I,  as  I  do  hope  I  be,'  "  — 

"  '  I  've  got  a  little  dog  at  home,  and  he  knows  me,'  " 

said  Ruff  on  the  instant.  "  Let  me  flatter  myself, 
Mrs.  Childe,  that  I  am  that  little  dog." 

"  You  are  easily  flattered,"  said  Milly ;  "  and  if 
I  remember  aright  the  little  dog  in  the  song  turned 
out  a  traitor.  In  fact,  only  my  glass  knows  me,  — 
the  real  Emily  Briggs." 

"  I  am  an  old  friend,  Mrs.  Childe,"  Ruff  ob- 
served. She  had  seated  herself  on  a  sofa  at  the 
right  of  the  fireplace,  and  he  drew  a  chair  close  to 
her  side.  "  I  am  rather  proud  of  saying,"  he  went 
on,  sinking  into  it  luxuriously,  "  that  I  am  the  oldest 
friend  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  has  in  New  York." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Milly.     "  I  do  seem  to  have 


CIPHERS.  101 

known  you  for  a  long  time,  and  your  fidelity  has 
been  sometimes  tried,  perhaps.  When  I  have 
said  '  Come '  you  have  come,  and  when  "  — 

"  You  have  never  yet  said  to  me  '  Go,'  "  put  in 
Ruff  entreatingly. 

"No,  I  was  about  to  add  that  when  I  have 
piped  to  you  you  have  danced,  but  not  as  well 
as  you  did  for  Mrs.  Crooke  Poorshaw.  How  well 
you  talked  all  through  the  long  dull  dinner !  How 
many  good  things  you  said  !  It  seemed  almost 
a  pity  to  give  up  to  a  Sunday  family  dinner  what 
was  meant  for  mankind.  But  we  appreciated 
you,  at  least  after  our  fashion.  At  any  rate  we 
are  not  ungrateful.'' 

"  If  you  listened  "  - 

"  Mrs.  Crooke  Poorshaw  listened,  which  is  more 
to  the  purpose.  She  was  your  inspirer." 

"  Mrs.  Crooke  Poorshaw  is  a  pretty  and  an  ele- 
gant woman  in  her  way,"  said  Ruff  fastidiously. 
"  But  when  I  meet  such  people  I  say  to  myself : 
*  This  is  called  society ;  these  are  acknowledged 
first  people ;  these  are,  so  to  speak,  the  arbiters 
of'"  — 

"  Thank  you  for  abusing  my  nearest  connec- 
tions," murmured  Milly.  "  It  saves  me  no  end  of 
trouble.  Go  on." 

"  But "  — 

"  I  assure  you  my  withers  are  un wrung.  They 
deserve  the  most  you  can  say  of  them.  I  grant 
that.  Still,  they  l>elong  to  the  human  race,  —  you 
must  admit  too  that  they  are  very  much  like  other 
people." 


102  CIPHERS. 

There  was  an  almost  reprehensible  air  of  raillery 
about  Milly.  However,  Wilkins,  the  butler,  was 
standing  in  the  doorway  waiting  for  orders,  and 
Ruff  decided  that  she  was  only  trying  to  cover  an 
awkward  moment.  He  had  not  thought  of  pos- 
sible eavesdroppers.  She  ordered  tea,  and  the  low 
table  was  placed  before  her ;  then  the  table  was 
covered  with  a  cloth,  and  the  service  was  slowly 
laid  out.  Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Childe  turned  to  Ruff, 
and  said  with  some  eagerness,  — 

"  Tell  me,  please,  about  your  friend  Mr.  Breck. 
Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  A  bright  young  fellow.  He  came  from  Bos- 
ton, originally,  but  is  making  his  way  here.  He 
has  done  some  very  good  work,  and  his  friends  ex- 
pect better  work  from  him.  His  bent  is  strongly 
artistic,  he  is  brim  full  of  originality,  and  he  is  be- 
sides very  thorough." 

"  But  about  himself.  He  has  a  charming  face. 
He  looks  clever  and  he  also  looks  good." 

"  He  has  worked  too  hard  to  have  any  time  for 
self-indulgence.  He  has  eked  out  his  income  by 
writing.  He  does  art  notices  and  reviews  of  art 
books  for  the  '  Renaissance.'  I  have  given  him 
some  work  from  my  own  overflow.  He  is  clever, 
probably  has  no  actual  genius,  but  has  a  beauti- 
fully flexible  mind,  pliant  to  every  impression  and 
with  a  gift  of  expression.  He  is  apt  to  overwork. 
We  were  in  the  Adirondacks  last  summer.  Never 
was  there  such  weather.  We  had  to  exercise  all 
our  ingenuity  to  avoid  being  drowned  out.  That 


CIPHERS.  103 

is,  Sidney  Breck  used  all  his  ingenuity,  for  he  and 
our  guide  carried  us  through.  The  rest  of  us  were 
a  set  of  helpless  complaining  loafers.  The  most 
wonderful  thing  about  Sidney  is  his  capacity  for 
work ;  the  next  is  his  sweet  temper.  He  accom- 
plished more  than  all  the  rest  of  us,  including  the 
guide,  yet  never  grumbled,  never  confessed  that 
he  was  tired,  or  took  the  worst  experience  amiss." 
Nobody  could  outdo  Ruff  in  magnanimity  where 
his  friends  were  concerned.  Still  one  owes  some- 
thing to  one's  self,  and  he  now  proceeded  to  describe 
a  Norwegian  experience  in  which  he  himself  had 
displayed  shining  traits  while  encountering  gen- 
uine hardships.  Strange  to  say,  Mrs.  Childe, 
whose  face  had  been  lighted  by  a  wonderful  soft 
brilliance  while  the  Adirondacks  were  the  theme, 
now  seemed  abstracted.  That  is,  her  expression,  a 
half-smiling  one,  remained  unchanged,  while  he 
was  in  the  midst  of  a  thrilling  account  of  salmon 
hauling,  when  he  was  dragged  into  deep  water  and 
so  weighted  down  by  his  heavy  boots  that  he  was 
almost  drowned  before  he  could  be  extricated. 
Certainly,  there  was  nothing  in  such  a  predica- 
ment to  smile  over  even  in  retrospect.  He  had 
expected  a  gasp  of  sympathy,  some  pallor.  How- 
ever, when  a  woman  is  making  tea  it  is  impos- 
sible to  tell  whether  she  is  or  is  not  attending 
to  a  man.  Nettled  by  her  indifference,  Ruff 
said  within  himself  that  his  next  society  paper 
should  be  on  "  Works  of  Supererogation."  He 
would  define  the  foolish  labors  the  modern  woman 


104  CIPHERS. 

appoints  for  herself.  He  would  describe  the 
fashionable  afternoon  tea  -  table,  with  its  costly 
equipment  of  kettle,  lamp,  teapot,  tea-bell,  tea- 
caddy,  sugar-bowl,  sugar-tongs,  cream-jug,  cream- 
ladle,  tea  cups  and  saucers,  and  bread  and  butter 
plates.  He  would  draw  a  picture  of  the  pretty 
solicitudes  of  the  tea-maker:  first,  as  to  whether 
the  lamp  burns  to  the  right  degree,  then  as  to 
whether  the  water  boils  or  merely  simmers ;  her 
intense  seriousness  as  she  measures  out  the  tea ; 
the  coquettish  manoeuvres  with  which  she  goes 
forward  and  back,  advances  and  re-advances  on 
the  same  lines ;  her  tremors  of  doubt  as  to  the 
success  of  her  undertaking.  Of  course  a  cup  of 
tea,  no  matter  how  poor,  gains  under  these  vicis- 
situdes a  sort  of  value.  But  when  we  consider 
the  brief  duration  of  human  life,  might  it  not  be 
as  well  if  the  butler  in  his  pantry,  or  the  cook  in 
the  kitchen,  should  set  the  tea  steeping  ?  —  thus 
enabling  the  queen  in  the  parlor  to  give  time,  ear, 
and  eye  to  the  intelligent  man  who  addresses  her. 
In  fact,  Ruff  said  to  himself,  he  might  add  that 
the  modern  Penelope  who  wished  to  keep  her  suit- 
ors at  bay  only  required  to  make  tea  perpetually 
instead  of  toiling  over  tapestry. 

His  irritation  was  natural,  for  it  was  only  too 
evident  that  Milly  had  let  her  thoughts  wander 
and  had  lost  all  clew  to  the  meaning  of  his  dis- 
course. This  might  or  might  not  be  an  unfavor- 
able sign,  for  it  was  her  usual  habit  to  give  her 
undivided  attention  to  any  one  who  spoke  to  her. 


CIPHERS.  105 

Bat  now  she  ended  the  pause  which  ensued,  when 
he  stopped  short  just  at  the  point  where  he  had 
waded  breast  high  into  the  stream  in  order  not  to 
lose  his  salmon,  by  asking  him  if  his  tea  suited 
him,  evidently  without  a  thrill  of  concern  for 
his  safety,  and  her  next  remark  was  absolutely 
flippant,  for  she  went  on  to  say  that  Mr.  Norreys 
had  views  on  the  subject  of  making  tea. 

"  I  dare  say  his  ideas  are  correct,"  said  Ruff, 
with  some  stiffness.  "  No  man  alive  surpasses 
Whiley  Norreys  in  the  capacity  for  laying  down 
the  law  with  intense  conviction  that  two  and  two 
make  four." 

"  He  sometimes  makes  me  long  to  declare  that 
two  and  two  make  seventeen,"  said  Milly. 

"  I  supposed,"  observed  Ruff,  "  that  everybody 
in  society  agreed  with  Whiley.  It  is  impossible 
wholly  to  despise  that  sort  of  man,  for  he  adds 
zest  to  life  by  his  enjoyment  of  its  trivialities, 
and  his  presence  enhances  the  good-nature  and 
comfort  so  important  for  the  preservation  of  small 
coteries." 

There  was  an  energy  in  his  accent  and  a  latent 
disdain  in  his  look  as  he  stirred  his  cup  of  tea 
which  made  Milly  glance  towards  him  with  won- 
der. "Candidly,  Mrs.  Childe,"  he  went  on  to 
say,  "I  do  feel  that  you  are  thrown  away  on  a 
society  whose  oracle  is  Whiley  Norreys." 

Milly,  who  had  just  lifted  her  cup  to  her  lips, 
put  it  down  untasted. 

"  Oh,  dear,  I  flattered  myself  I  was  doing  very 


106  CIPHERS. 

well,"  she  said.  "  I  actually  was  beginning  to 
pique  myself  on  being  quite  a  fashionable  woman." 

"  Of  course ;  by  simply  raising  your  finger  you 
can  be  a  fashionable  woman,  —  that  is,  you  can 
make  fashions,"  said  Ruff,  holding  out  his  now 
empty  cup  to  be  replenished.  "  The  greater  in- 
cludes the  less.  But  when  the  world  calls  you  a 
beautiful  and  successful  woman  "  — 

"  I  never  consider  myself  either  a  beautiful  or 
a  successful  woman,"  said  Milly.  "  I  know  very 
well  that  if  I  had  no  money  I  should  have  no 
followers.  Everybody  has  always  laughed  at  the 
source  of  the  wealth  they  are  quite  willing  to 
accept  the  advantages  of.  I  used  to  writhe  at  any 
allusion  to  the  Elixir.  It  was  associated  with 
half-suppressed  smiles,  whispers,  and  humorous 
allusions.  Nowadays,  I  make  a  point  of  talking 
about  my  grandfather's  famous  Elixir,  and  more 
than  once  I  have  recommended  it  to  some  languid, 
elegant  people." 

"  I  feel  for  all  you  have  suffered,"  said  Ruff,  in 
a  touched  voice. 

"  It  ought  to  have  been  good  for  my  soul,"  said 
Milly,  "  but  it  was  not  good  for  my  soul.  A 
spirit  grew  in  me  which  made  me  long  to  defend 
myself.  Not  everybody  can  be  a  lioness  or  a 
tigress,  but  the  least  of  creatures  can  put  up  her 
back  and  spit,  and  that  is  what  I  have  done." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Ruff. 

"  Indeed,  I  have  done  so ;  and  I  have  found  out 
that  Trav,  Blanche,  and  Sweetheart,  who  barked  at 


CIPHERS.  107 

me,  may  now  be  led  by  a  silken  thread.  But  I 
suppose  I  have  passed  the  time  of  life  when  one 
makes  real  friends.  Women  flock  to  see  me  on 
my  reception  days,  but  if  one  of  them  sends  up 
her  card  on  any  other  day,  I  say  to  myself,  '  She 
wants  money  for  some  object,'  and  invariably  she 
does  want  money." 

"I  can  see,"  said  Ruff,  who  felt  himself  softly 
pushed  away  from  his  subject,  "  that  such  doubts 
imperil  friendship." 

"I  envy  men  their  opportunity  to  make  real 
friends,"  Milly  went  on.  "  It  might  be  almost 
worth  while  to  be  a  man  to  have  men's  friend- 
ships. I  suppose  the  reason  you  all  hang  together 
so  is  that  you  know  such  dreadful  things  about 
each  other." 

"  The  true  friendship  is  between  a  man  and  a 
woman,"  Ruff  observed,  with  conviction. 

"Let  us  swear  an  eternal  one,"  said  Milly. 
"  But  presently  you  will  marry  some  woman  who 
does  not  like  me,  and  where  shall  I  be  then? 
By  the  by,  you  and  Mr.  Breck  seem  to  be  good 
friends." 

"  I  like  Breck.  I  am  even  fond  of  the  young- 
ster." 

"  He  swears  by  you." 

"  I  have  had  it  in  my  power  to  do  a  good  deal 
for  him,"  said  Ruff.  Could  it  be  that  it  was  the 
mention  of  Breck  which  brought  that  soft  bril- 
liance again  to  her  glance  and  smile  ? 

"He   told   me   he   set   out   to   be   a  painter," 


108  CIPHERS. 

remarked  Milly ;  "  then,  needing  quick  returns,  he 
took  up  architecture." 

"There  is  no  telling  what  sort  of  failure  he 
might  have  made  in  art,"  said  Ruff.  "  He  has  too 
much  cleverness  to  be  a  great  genius." 

All  this  was  miles  away  from  his  real  subject. 
Still,  with  the  tea-table  spread  out,  and  two  men 
coming  in  every  five  minutes  to  offer  some  crisp 
confection,  it  was  of  course  impossible  to  broach 
the  question  which  imperatively  rose  to  his  lips. 
He  had  no  intention  of  shirking  it.  He  believed 
she  liked  him,  although  to-night  she  did  seem 
more  successfully  than  usual  to  dissemble  her 
love.  Now,  thank  Heaven,  the  tea  things  were 
being  carried  off.  There  was  an  air  of  finality 
about  the  way  the  butler  looked  round  the  room 
as  he  doubled  up  the  table  and  put  it  in  its  place. 
A  fresh  lump  of  coal  was  thrown  on  the  fire,  and 
the  lights  were  carefully  shaded.  While  this  bustle 
was  going  on,  Euff  told  about  a  new  play  which  he 
had  been  to  see  the  night  before.  Milly  said  she 
would  arrange  a  theatre  party  for  the  coining 
Saturday,  and  began  counting  up  a  dozen  people, 
of  whom,  alas,  Ruff  was  not  one.  But  then  he 
had  just  told  her  he  hated  theatre  parties. 

"  You  bristle  with  negations.  You  do  not  like 
anything,"  said  Milly.  "You  see  through  us; 
find  our  wisdom  commonplace  and  our  best  wit 
foolish.  All  our  efforts  to  entertain  you  are 
purely  disinterested ;  you  will  not  be  entertained." 

"You    do    not    understand    me    at    all,   Mrs. 


CIPHERS.  109 

Childe,"  Ruff  returned,  leaning  forward,  his  pale, 
ardent  face  kindled  with  new  light,  —  even  his 
eyeglasses  full  of  expression.  "  Everything  you 
do  pleases  me  only  too  well.  The  trouble  is,  I 
throw  you  so  high  above  ordinary  mortals  that  I 
cannot  easily  resign  you  to  the  trivial  round,  — 
the  buzzing,  bustling  inactivity  which  makes  up 
fashionable  life." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ? "  inquired 
Milly  naively. 

His  heart  was  beating  rapidly.  She  certainly 
offered  him  a  chance  to  be  explicit.  He  would 
have  liked  to  say,  "  Marry  me,  Mrs.  Childe ;  that 
is  a  heaven-appointed  career  for  you."  And  he 
was  capable  of  saying  it,  that  is,  if  he  were  well 
warmed  up  by  his  subject,  instead  of  approaching 
it,  as  it  were,  in  cold  blood.  What  he  did  contrive 
to  stammer  out  was :  — 

"  Suppose,  Mrs.  Childe,  I  were  to  be  very  pre- 
sumptuous?" 

"  I  suppose  I  should  consider  it  a  bit  of  human 
nature.  *  Presumptuous  mortals,'  —  it  has  passed 
into  a  phrase." 

"  But  think  how  long  I  have  known  you !  " 

"  An  eternity." 

"  And  does  not  a  long,  and  I  may  say  somewhat 
intimate,  acquaintance  give  a  man  a  right  ?  " 

"  It  gives  a  man  every  right,"  said  Milly. 

"  You  will  not  strike  me  dead  if  I  am  too  bold  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not ;  striking  people  dead  is  no  habit 
of  mine.  It  is  too  generally  the  other  way." 


110  CIPHERS. 

"  Then,  Mrs.  Childe,"  said  Kuff,  "  I  ask  you  to 
be  my  wife." 

"  Oh,  good  gracious,  Mr.  Ruff,  you  must  be 
joking." 

"  Joking ! "  cried  Ruff,  in  a  voice  of  poignant 
reproach.  "  I  ask  you  to  be  my  wife !  " 

"  Please  do  not  ask  anything  so  impossible," 
said  Milly,  with  a  sort  of  petulance.  "  Do  you 
suppose  I  am  thinking  of  a  second  marriage? 
Not  the  least  in  the  world.  I  began  very  young. 
I  have  had  my  experience." 

"  But,"  said  Ruff  imploringly,  "  that  is  just  it. 
Your  experience  was  perhaps  not  an  absolutely 
happy  one,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  "  — 

"  As  if  you  could  make  it  up  to  me  ?  I  assure 
you  I  am  not  thinking  of  any  sort  of  compensation. 
Please  put  the  idea  out  of  your  head." 

"  I  see,"  faltered  Ruff,  overwhelmed  by  a  convic- 
tion of  his  bad  management  of  his  own  case,  "  I  have 
taken  you  by  surprise.  I  ought  to  have  prepared 
you.  Still,  Mrs.  Childe,  I  did  believe  that  our 
whole  acquaintance  had  been  a  preparation.  You 
have  seemed  to  like  me  "  — 

"  I  have  liked  you  extremely,"  said  Milly  with 
perfect  sweetness.  "  I  should  hate  very  much  to 
give  you  up  as  a  friend,  for  I  depend  on  you  for 
opinions  and  ideas  on  all  sorts  of  subjects." 

"  If  you  could  bring  yourself  to  make  a  place  for 
me  in  your  life,"  said  Ruff,  wiping  his  eyeglasses, 
which  were  suffused  with  mist  and  blinded  him,  — 
"  if  I  could  be  always  at  your  side,  prompting, 


CIPHERS.  Ill 

guiding,  combining,  —  I  could  make  your  house 
a  centre  of  conversation,  wit  "  — 

"  I  see,"  murmured  Milly,  "  you  are  ambitious  to 
have  a  salon.  Now  do  you  know,  Mr.  Ruff,  I  never 
was  ambitious  to  have  a  salon.  As  it  is,  people 
bore  me  to  extinction." 

"  Do  I  bore  you  to  extinction  ?  " 

"  No,  not  generally,  —  not  until  you  suggested 
this  unlucky  topic.  Let  us  talk  about  something 
else,  —  anything  else.  Have  you  heard  about "  — 

"  Mrs.  Childe,  you  do  not  know,  —  you  do  not 
begin  to  know  my  sensations.  This  has  cut  me  to 
the  heart." 

"  There  comes  papa,"  said  Milly. 

"  But  tell  me,  are  you  quite  certain  "  — 

"Absolutely  certain,"  said  Milly  relentlessly. 
"Well,  papa,  how  many  cups  of  tea  did  cousin 
Agnes  give  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Childe  sat  down  and  began  talking  at  once. 
He  had  seen  Mr.  Ferris,  who  had  told  him  of  an 
amendment  now  before  Congress  likely  to  depre- 
ciate stock  and  make  the  whole  social  fabric  totter. 
Now  modern  politics  were  to  Mr.  Childe  a  mere 
juggler's  trick  for  getting  hold  of  the  valuables  in 
one's  pockets,  and  by  some  open  chicanery  or  sleight 
of  hand  transferring  them  to  the  sleeve  of  the 
manipulator.  He  never  heard  of  a  new  bill  before 
the  state  Assembly  or  national  Congress  without 
suggesting  some  plan  for  simplifying  matters,  so 
that  honest  men  might  hold  their  own. 

"  I  should  like  to  be  at  the  head  of  affairs  for 


112  CIPHERS. 

one  year,"  he  now  remarked  to  Ruff,  "  and  I  as- 
sure you  I  should  make  a  revolution.  When  I 
think  of  that  mob  of  fellows  in  Washington  with 
their  hands  in  the  Treasury,  voting  away  thou- 
sands and  tens  of  thousands  of  dollars  for  every 
sort  of  job  that  tickles  their  constituents,  and  then 
when  I  go  on  to  reflect  that  the  same  sort  of 
thieving  on  a  reduced  scale  is  going  on  in  each  of 
the  —  How  many  States  are  there  in  this  country, 
Ruff?" 

"  Forty-two,  I  believe." 

"  There  used  to-be  twenty-eight  when  I  went  to 
school,"  grumbled  Mr.  Childe.  "  But  no  matter, 
the  more  there  are  the  more  thieves  there  are. 
Well,  as  I  say,  if  I  were  at  the  head  of  affairs  I 
would  put  all  the  members  of  the  two  houses  of 
Congress  and  of  all  the  state  Assemblies  into  a 
leaky  ship  together,  send  them  out  into  mid-ocean, 
and  scuttle  it.  With  these  legislators  out  of  the 
way  there  might  be  a  chance." 

*•  A  chance  for  whom  ?  " 

"  For  honest  men." 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  It  would  simply 
afford  a  chance  for  the  other  politicians  anxious  to 
get  into  your  drowned  rascals'  shoes." 

"  Then  I  would  send  another  ship,  and  another, 
and  another,  and  have  one,  too,  for  all  aldermen 
and  common  councilmen." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  Ruff  blandly. 
"  And  after  that  what  should  you  propose  to  do  ? 
Set  up  as  Kaiser  ?  " 


CIPHERS.  113 

"I  don't  want  any  more  responsibility.  And 
when  the  rascals  are  all  disposed  of,  we  can  get 
along  easily  and  comfortably,  without  either  laws 
or  rules." 

Ruff  took  his  leave.  Indeed,  he  could  hardly 
hold  up  his  head,  and  he  went  home  and  sat  down 
helplessly.  He  could  not  yet  take  in  the  extent  of 
the  calamity  which  had  befallen  him  ;  he  could  not 
even  decide  as  to  the  degree  of  consideration  with 
which  his  pretensions  had  been  treated.  Cer- 
tainly she  had  most  successfully  dissembled  her 
love.  And  after  all,  is  it  necessary  to  know  the 
exact  calibre  of  the  cannon-ball  which  takes  one's 
head  off  ?  His  head  was  gone  :  there  could  be  no 
doubt  of  that,  and  he  could  not  yet  recover  from 
this  attitude  of  open-mouthed  surprise. 

Even  after  a  night's  sleep  he  was  singularly  de- 
pressed. His  mental  vision  began  to  clear,  how- 
ever, and  he  realized  that  he  had  not  done  the 
thing  in  the  best  way.  He  had  not  fully  grasped 
his  idea,  which  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  stow- 
ing away  in  some  unreachable  pigeon-hole  of  his 
brain,  and  at  the  moment  could  only  fumble  after 
it.  He  had  been  stiff  and  dull,  whereas  he  had 
expected  to  dazzle  with  sallies  of  wit,  to  charm  by 
far-reaching  suggestions,  holding  in  reserve  a  deli- 
cate touch  of  pathos.  What  on  earth  had  ailed 
him  ?  The  fact  was,  probably,  that  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  addressing  the  public  in  the  abstract,  as  it 
were,  and  thus  had  not  adjusted  his  full  powers  to 
the  task  of  conquering  the  concrete  woman  before 


114  CIPHERS. 

him,  —  a  human  being  composed  of  instincts,  sensa- 
tions, likings,  repugnances,  tastes,  sympathies,  a 
few  definite  ideas,  and  a  whole  chaos  of  romantic 
imaginings.  While  he  spoke  he  ought  to  have 
remembered  that  his  each  word  and  look  created 
some  impression,  which  harmonized  with,  or  was 
opposed  to,  certain  preconceived  notions  of  what 
she  wanted  in  a  second  marriage.  She  was  not  a 
young  girl.  Evidently  she  could  look  at  a  suitor 
without  perturbations  of  spirit,  estimate  him,  test 
him,  even  compare  him  with  others.  Now  that 
Ruff  was  in  a  logical  frame  of  mind,  remembering 
her  former  husband's  languid  elegance  and  egoistic 
valetudinarianism,  he  was  ready  to  predict  infal- 
libly, after  the  event,  that  Lee  Childe's  widow 
would  insist  on  fervid  bubblings  of  passion,  the 
raptures  of  a  Romeo. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said  to  himself,  his  irritation 
growing  every  moment,  "  that  what  she  wanted 
was  that  I  should  have  gone  down  on  my  knees  to 
her." 

It  was  while  he  was  still  chewing  this  cud  of  bitter- 
ness that  Mr.  Joshua  Venn  dropped  in  at  his 
office  to  make  some  inquiries  about  Sidney  Breck. 
The  lawyer  was  cautious,  extremely  cautious,  and 
advanced  to  his  subject  under  cover  of  Mrs.  Lee 
Childe's  expensive  building  projects.  Mr.  Breck 
had,  he  said,  suggested  alterations  in  the  Berkshire 
house  which  would  necessitate  a  considerable  out- 
lay ;  would  he  —  he  appealed  to  Ruff  —  be  justified 
in  advising  his  client  to  commit  herself  to  the 


CIPHERS.  1 15 

clever  inventions  of  an  ambitious  young  architect, 
whose  senior  partner  was  at  present  engaged  in 
Washington  ?  No  man  alive  could  exceed  Holly 
Ruff  in  the  capacity  of  seeing  through  a  millstone, 
and  he  instantly  understood  that  Mr.  Joshua  Venn 
was  afraid  that  his  client  was  more  than  a  little 
run  away  with  by  a  personal  interest  in  the  young 
partner  of  the  firm  of  Champion  and  Breck.  He 
would  have  scorned  to  take  a  mean  advantage  of  a 
rival  when  asked  about  his  character. 

"  Sidney  Breck  is  as  honest  a  fellow  as  ever 
breathed,"  he  said.  "  He  spent  five  years  in  Paris, 
between  the  ages  of  seventeen  and  twenty-two,  that 
I  cannot  answer  for.  He  had  four  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  to  live  on,  and  by  turns,  no  doubt,  al- 
ternately feasted  and  starved,  as  art  students  do, 
according  to  the  way  their  pockets  are  rilled.  He 
worked  hard  at  the  Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts  and  at 
the  atelier,  that  I  know  ;  and  a  young  fellow  cannot 
work  as  he  did  unless  he  puts  his  heart  into  it,  as 
well  as  his  strength.  I  don't  say  he  was  a  saint  or 
an  angel.  I  dare  say  he  learned  a  good  many 
things  not  in  the  course  of  the  Ecole  des  Beaux 
Arts.  But  I  do  not  believe  he  learned  anything 
which  is  not  useful  to  a  man  who  has  to  live  in  this 
world.  As  I  say,  I  can't  really  vouch  for  those 
five  years  in  Paris,  yet  I  would  be  ready  to  swear 
by  Breck  all  through,  for  I  have  known  him  ever 
since  he  came  to  New  York, — known  him  well, 
and  I  think  better  of  him  than  I  do  of  myself, — 
I  would  trust  him  sooner." 


116  CIPHERS. 

Mr.  Venn  remarked  dryly  that  he  was  very  glad 
to  hear  that  the  young  man  had  a  good  character, 
and,  after  some  curt  thanks,  went  away.  Left 
alone,  Ruff  stamped  about  his  room  in  the  clutches 
of  a  new  idea.  It  was  grotesque  ;  he  laughed  at 
it ;  he  thrust  it  away ;  he  stamped  on  it,  and  yet 
the  spectre  remained  unsubdued.  While  he  was 
still  fighting  this  phantom,  he  was  startled  by  the 
advent  of  the  very  person  whom  he  suddenly  felt 
a  fierce  anxiety  to  see. 

"  May  I  come  in?  "  asked  Sidney  Breck  at  the 
door.  At  the  sight  of  the  bright,  joyous  young 
fellow,  Ruff  experienced  an  acute  sense  of  his  own 
undeserved  sufferings. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  interrupt  you,"  said  Breck. 

"  Interrupt  away.  Some  days  are  given  up  to 
the  foul  fiend,  and  there  are  only  interruptions.  I 
have  not  done  a  stroke  of  work,  and  evidently  shall 
not  accomplish  a  stroke  of  work.  Come  in  and 
sit  down." 

Breck  sat  down.  He  never  expected  meaning- 
less suavity  from  Ruff,  so  thought  this  greeting 
nothing  particular. 

"I  wanted  to  ask  you  a  question,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  a  foolish  trifle,  still  "  — 

"  I  will  try  to  '  answer  a  fool  according  to  his 
folly.'  " 

"  Do.  What  I  wanted  to  ask  was  this :  I  am  to 
dine  with  Mrs.  Childe  to-night,  —  that  is,  I  am 
to  take  a  drawing  for  her  to  look  at,  and  stay  to 
dinner.  Now,  under  such  circumstances,  ought  I 
or  ought  I  not  to  wear  my  dress  clothes  ?  " 


CIPHERS.  1 17 

"  Have  you  or  have  you  not  cut  your  eye-teeth  ? 
Can  you  or  can  you  not  walk  alone?"  said  Ruff, 
who  had  removed  his  eyeglasses  and  now  turned 
and  glared  at  his  visitor  with  his  near-sighted 
eyes. 

"  You  see  I  cannot." 

"  I  supposed  any  fool  knew  that  a  man  is  sup- 
posed to  put  on  his  dress  clothes,  if  he  owns  any, 
to  dine  with  a  lady,  and  at  a  house  like  that, 
where  "  — 

"  What  I  felt  was  this,"  said  Breck  "  that  per- 
haps when  I  was  actually  fulfilling  a  business  en- 
gagement I  ought  not  to  "  — 

"Don't  talk  about  tweedle-dum  and  tweedle- 
dee,"  said  Ruff.  "  Of  course  wear  your  evening 
clothes.  I  should  be  ashamed  of  you  else." 

"Thank  you,  old  fellow.  I  knew  you  would 
tell  me  exactly  what  to  do." 

"  Do  you  see  Mrs.  Childe  often  ?  "  asked  Ruff, 
fiercely  rubbing  his  eyeglasses. 

"'Often?'"  repeated  Breck  doubtfully.  "I 
don't  exactly  know  what  you  call  '  often.'  " 

Already  feverish  and  fretful,  Ruff  turned  on 
him  in  a  storm  of  indignation. 

"  I  call  often  often.  You  will  see  her  to-night. 
When  did  you  see  her  last  ?  " 

"  Two  or  three  days  ago.  That  is,  it  will  be  two 
days  this  afternoon,"  said  Breck. 

"  Two  or  three  days  ago,  —  that  is,  the  two  days 
will  be  up  by  this  afternoon,"  said  Ruff  with  a 
mirthless  laush.  "  You  remind  me  of  an  Irishman 


118  CIPHERS. 

I  met  in  the  street.  '  Give  me  a  sixpence  for  the 
love  of  God,'  said  he,  '  to  buy  a  sip  of  whiskey. 
I  have  not  had  a  drop  since  yesterday,  and  to-mor- 
row will  be  the  third  day.'  " 

Breck  also  laughed  in  a  half -embarrassed  way. 

"  Look  here,  youngster,"  said  Ruff,  who  had  by 
this  time  polished  his  eyeglasses  to  his  heart's  con- 
tent, and  now,  putting  them  on,  turned  the  double 
lens  on  his  victim.  "  You  are  falling  in  love  with 
that  woman." 

Breck  stared  at  the  other  a  moment,  all  the  color 
receding  from  his  face.  He  opened  his  lips  to 
speak,  but  no  words  came. 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  what  it  means  to  fall 
in  love  with  a  woman  worth  millions  ?  How  much 
have  you  got  in  the  world  ?  " 

"Ten  thousand  dollars,"  gasped  Breck,  as  if 
aghast. 

"  Are  you  looking  forward,"  Ruff  pursued  with 
a  dry  smile,  "  to  marrying  Mrs.  Childe  ?  " 

Breck  hung  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Well,  then,  what  do  you  expect  ?  " 

"  I  expect  nothing.  Good  God,  I  don't  under- 
stand you,  Ruff." 

"  Other  people  seem  to,"  observed  Ruff  point- 
edly. 

"  Do  you  allude  to  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you  no  such  idea  would  ever  have 
lodged  in  my  brain  unless  it  had  been  put  there  by 
somebody  else.  To  begin  with,  you  seem  to  me  a 
mere  boy  compared  with  her." 


CIPHERS.  119 

"I  am  ten  months  her  senior,"  said  Breck 
eagerly. 

"  She  is  a  hundred  years  older  than  you  are  in 
knowledge  of  the  world,"  said  Ruff.  "  She  is  not 
thinking  of  marrying  any  one.  She  could  have  no 
object  in  marrying  except  to  secure  a  title.  I  have 
known  her  for  twelve  years.  I  saw  her  all  through 
her  married  life.  I  knew  her  husband.  I  saw 
just  the  terms  they  were  on." 

"  What  were  the  terms  they  were  on  ?  "  asked 
Breck,  a  flush  rising  to  his  forehead. 

"  At  the  start  she  was  afraid  of  him,  anxious  to 
please  him.  Next  she  tried  to  surprise  him,  pique 
him,  dazzle  him.  Then  she  found  out  that  he  was 
ill,  and  she  would  have  nursed  him  devotedly  if  he 
had  permitted  it.  He  had  a  valet  whose  ministra- 
tions he  preferred.  I  tell  you  she  had  plenty  of 
mental  experience  in  her  married  life.  At  first 
she  was  trampled  on,  then  she  turned  round  ready 
to  trample  on  others.  I  don't  suppose  any  human 
being  is  born  without  heart,  but  hers  was  used  up 
in  the  ordeal  she  went  through.  She  has  not  an 
atom  of  heart  now.  She  is  all  intellect,  all  ca- 
price, all  ambition.  Anything  novel  interests  her, 
and  you  are  a  novelty.  She  will  lead  you  on,  turn 
you  inside  out,  amuse  herself  with  your  romantic 
worship,  then  break  your  heart.  I  don't  care  so 
much  about  that.  What  I  do  mind  is  your  being 
stigmatized  as  an  adventurer  in  pursuit  of  her 
money." 

Breck  tried  to  speak,  but  it  was  as  if  his  tongue 
were  paralyzed. 


120  CIPHERS. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  demanded  Ruff  inflexibly. 

"Your  imagination  carries  you  away,"  Breck 
contrived  to  stammer. 

"  See  that  yours  does  not,"  said  Ruff,  with  a 
straight  look  into  the  young  face,  which  had  lost 
all  its  glow.  The  eyes  were  dilated,  and  the  nos- 
trils quivered  as  if  nature  were  at  a  severe  strain. 
"  You  see,"  Ruff  pursued,  urged  on  to  hammer  in 
obvious  truths  until  they  touched  the  quick,  "  you 
know  little  of  the  world,  and  don't  begin  to  com- 
prehend what  it  is  for  a  woman  to  be  so  rich  that 
everything  lies  within  her  reach ;  beautiful  beyond 
other  women,  with  an  assured  place  in  the  great 
world,  twenty-seven  years  old,  and  a  widow.  She 
has  been  everywhere,  seen  everything.  What  she 
has  not  done  she  has  read  about,  and  what  has 
she  not  thought?  She  is  the  sort  of  woman  who 
wants  cherries  in  mid-winter  and  snow-banks  in 
summer;  if  she  goes  into  a  shop,  she  asks  for 
what  they  have  not  got.  You  don't  begin  to 
measure  her  possible  caprice ;  yet  you  actually 
believe  that  you  are  pleasing  her.  The  moment 
you  tell  her  you  expect  to  marry  her  "  — 

"  The  moment  I  tell  her  I  expect  to  marry  her," 
said  Breck  in  hot  wrath,  "  she  may  dismiss  me  as 
a  lunatic." 

"  She  will  dismiss  you,  no  doubt  of  that.  Per- 
haps you  have  been  deceiving  yourself  by  the 
belief  that  you  nurse  no  actual  hopes  of  winning 
her,  but  the  hope  is  kindled  and  burns  in  your 
mind  the  whole  time.  Your  fancy  is  heated  by 


CIPHERS.  121 

the  idea  of  her ;  you  may  think  you  are  planning 
a  country  house,  but  it  is  only  a  castle  in  Spain 
enveloped  in  a  diaphanous  and  rosy  mist,  from 
behind  which  a  magical  dawn  is  likely  to  break 
any  moment.  How  can  you  help  thinking  of  such 
a  woman  ?  When  she  turns  towards  you,  you  are 
ready  to  go  on  your  knees  to  her  !  " 

"  Please  dismiss  the  pronoun  '  you '  from  your 
statement,"  struck  in  Breck,  who  was  beginning 
to  rally  his  scattered  forces,  u  as  if  you  were  de- 
scribing me,  for  I  don't  go  with  you  at  all. 
When  I  am  in  danger  of  going  on  my  knees  to 
any  woman  alive,  I  will  come  and  tell  you." 

"When  I  say  'you,'"  said  Holly  Ruff,  "I 
mean  a  man  with  blood  and  not  water  in  his 
veins.  Such  a  man  would  be  pretty  sure  to 
worship  her." 

"  I  should  say  you  were  in  love  with  her  your- 
self!" 

"I  am  sufficiently  in  love  to  know  where  the 
rocks  lie.  I  have  been  in  your  place,  youngster, 
and  I  advise  you  as  a  friend  not  to  be  passion's 
slave,  but  to  look  the  question  in  the  face  as  if  it 
were  the  case  of  another  man.  Can  you  afford  to 
go  on  falling  in  love  with  her,  —  burning  incense 
to  her  coquetry,  —  and,  worse  than  all,  being 
branded  by  all  who  look  on  as  a  presumptuous 
fortune-hunter?  There,  now,  I  have  spoken  as 
your  true  friend  ought  to  speak ;  I  trust  you  are 
not  offended." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  offended,"  said  Breck 
fiercely. 


122  CIPHERS. 

"  It  is  natural  enough,"  Ruff  went  on,  "  that 
when  she  singles  out  a  bright  young  fellow  in  this 
way  he  should  grow  ambitious.  Of  course,  what  a 
man  looks  for  and  watches  in  the  vault  of  heaven 
is  his  own  star." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  Breck.  "  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  disinterestedness." 

"I  don't  know  where  you  will  find  it,"  Ruff 
retorted.  "  We  somehow  have  to  eat  and  drink, 
provide  lodging  and  raiment,  and  we  all  are  im- 
patient to  do  it  in  the  handsomest  way.  We 
always  say  that  when  we  have  any  superfluities 
we  will  be  generous,  but  what  mortal  has  enough  ? 
Now  I  have  preached  my  preach.  I  should  not 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  do  it  for  any  one  else, 
but  the  truth  is,  Breck,  I  'm  fond  of  you,  —  you  're 
like  a  younger  brother.  I  should  not  like  to  have 
you  come  to  grief." 

"I  am  grateful  to  you,"  said  Breck  dryly. 
"  Since  you  are  a  sort  of  elder  brother,  I  may  as 
well  confide  the  fact  to  you  that  the  only  woman 
on  earth  whom  I  have  ever  thought  of  as  iny 
wife  is  Miss  Anita  Rivera." 

"I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart,"  said 
Ruff,  wringing  his  friend's  hand  with  an  air  of 
relief. 

Breck  did  not  stop  to  correct  any  possible  false 
impression  left  on  the  mind  of  his  mentor.  All 
he  wished  for  was  to  be  outside  this  torture- 
chamber,  and  telling  Ruff  that  he  was  in  haste  he 
left  at  once. 


CIPHERS.  123 

Once  on  the  pavement  outside,  he  stamped  his 
foot  angrily,  and  said  aloud  :  — 

"The  trouble  with  Holly  Ruff  is  that  he  is  a 
beast."  The  phrase  pleased  him,  and  he  repeated 
it  more  than  once,  indifferent  whether  or  no  he 
was  overheard  in  the  din  of  Broadway.  Then,  as 
he  was  ascending  the  stairs  which  led  to  his  own 
office,  he  added  :  — 

"  Did  I  ask  for  any  of  his  beastly  interference  ? 
Did  I?  I '11  be-  -if  I  did." 

In  fact,  the  young  architect  was  in  a  very  great 
rage. 


VI. 

FOR  an  hour  or  two  Breck  felt  that  no  power 
on  earth  should  induce  him  to  go  near  Mrs.  Childe 
that  evening.  Then,  as  the  first  glow  of  his  indig- 
nation faded  away,  he  tried  to  look  at  the  situa- 
tion more  justly.  He  conceded  that  Ruff  was  a 
true  friend,  —  a  clever  man,  penetrating  and  at 
times  unamiable  ;  still,  he  knew  the  world  as  only 
a  man  who  has  an  unworldly  streak  in  him  can 
know  it.  Examining  his  own  conscience,  Breck 
had  to  confess  that  he  needed  just  this  raking  fore 
and  aft,  and  that  half  his  wrath  had  come  from 
his  reluctance  at  being  forced  to  show  his  true 
colors  and  define  his  course.  He  had  by  this 
known  Mrs.  Childe  seven  weeks,  and  had  seen  her 
in  all  thirteen  times.  Not  only  that,  but  he  con- 
stantly looked  forward  to  seeing  her,  and  was 
restless  if  he  did  not  see  her.  Indeed,  he  had  so 
often  made  excursions  to  the  Park  to  gain  a 
glimpse  of  her,  that  she  nowadays  watched  for 
him  as  she  took  her  daily  drive  with  Mr.  Childe, 
and  some  three  or  four  times  had  stopped  her  car- 
riage and  sent  the  man  to  invite  him  to  get  in. 
On  two  of  these  occasions  he  had  gone  back  with 
her,  dined,  and  stayed  till  midnight.  She  had  asked 
him  to  sing,  and  he  had  sung  to  her.  Afterwards, 


CIPHERS.  125 

when  he  lay  sleepless,  he  had  explained  to  himself 
that  it  was  the  music  which  had  excited  him. 

In  fact,  it  was  high  time  that  Ruff  should  have 
dragged  him  before  a  tribunal  and  administered  a 
stinging  rebuke.  When  a  man  ceases  to  remem- 
ber what  he  knows  by  heart,  he  needs  a  sharp 
lesson.  Breck  had  been  charmed  by  Mrs.  Lee 
Childe  the  first  moment  he  saw  her.  Then  she 
had  sent  for  him,  and  the  plans  for  the  country 
house  had  been  a  ready-made  excuse,  a  permanent 
apology,  an  excellent  sedative  to  conscience.  He 
knew  very  well,  however,  that  there  had  been 
nothing  professional,  nothing  perfunctory,  in  the 
way  he  had  remembered  how  once  that  little  soft, 
white  hand  had  fluttered  to  his,  alighting  for  a 
moment  like  a  dove.  In  all  his  life  nothing  so 
charming  had  come  to  pass  to  him.  It  was  the 
only  time  she  had  shown  sympathy  and  compre- 
hension in  just  that  way,  but  there  were  a  hundred 
other  memories  as  subtle  and  almost  as  sweet. 
They  had  talked ;  sometimes  Mrs.  Childe  had 
questioned  and  he  had  answered ;  then,  again,  it 
had  been  she  who  had  most  to  say.  But  let  one 
or  the  other  talk,  the  other  listened  as  if  under  the 
charm,  —  each  seemed  to  have  waited  for  the  other 
to  solve  the  problem.  Breck  had  felt  this ;  intel- 
lectually they  were  in  wonderful  sympathy.  He 
had  wondered  that  he  was  so  completely  at  ease  in 
her  presence,  for  he  had  never  seen  a  more  im- 
posing woman.  She  was  often  severe,  and  was 
not  at  all  slow  to  express  impatience  and  sarcasm 


126  CIPHERS. 

towards  the  world  in  general;  but,  although  he 
recognized  her  capacity  for  being  haughty,  he 
easily  understood  that  she  was  rather  timid  with 
those  she  liked,  that  she  had  an  intense  longing 
to  please,  and  that  her  eyes,  smile,  and  voice  could 
suggest  a  sweetness  which  made  other  women 
seem  cold. 

He  found  out  now  that  he  had  been  studying 
her ;  that  he  had  said  to  himself,  "  She  is  a  woman 
who  is  tired  of  being  lonely,  and  who  longs  for 
love  and  companionship.  She  will  not  give  her 
heart  easily,  but  let  her  give  it,  and  with  it  she 
gives  herself  at  once  and  forever.  She  has  made 
one  mistake,  and  she  will  be  careful  to  make  no 
more  mistakes." 

This  was  what  he  had  been  saying  to  himself 
of  late ;  now,  in  the  light  which  Holly  Ruff  had 
suddenly  turned  in  upon  his  vague,  fluctuating, 
incomplete  ideas,  he  longed  to  escape  from  the 
truth  disclosed.  He  writhed  at  the  conviction  of 
his  own  vanity  and  self-complacency.  Ruff  might 
well  have  inquired  how  he  expected  the  situation 
to  resolve  itself  if  he  counted  on  marrying  Mrs. 
Childe.  It  seemed  to  Breck  as  if  all  his  resolu- 
tion and  self-respect  shriveled  up  before  this 
revelation  of  his  absurd  vanity  and  presumption. 
He  had  governed  himself  before.  Nature,  iu  her 
lavish  output  of  force,  gives  men  faculties,  aspira- 
tions, and  talents  without  offering  any  favoring 
circumstances  for  their  development.  There  are 
those  who,  when  they  see  an  obstacle  in  their  way, 


CIPHERS.  127 

egoistically  decide  that  it  shall  not  spoil  their 
career,  so  carry  out  their  own  wishes  to  fulfillment 
with  a  strong  hand  and  an  iron  heel.  Breck,  how- 
ever, was  nothing  if  not  conscientious.  Years 
before,  he  had  resigned  his  ambition  to  be  a 
painter,  and  after  his  first  struggle  had  found  a 
real  satisfaction  in  the  reflection  that  he  had  given 
up  the  dearest  wish  of  his  life  for  his  sister's  sake ; 
that  he  had  denied  himself  not  only  his  art,  but 
ease,  self-indulgence,  desultory  tastes,  and  had  ad- 
hered rigidly  to  the  routine  he  had  relentlessly 
mapped  out. 

And  now  in  this  moment  of  revolt  against  the 
calumny  that  he  was  trying  to  marry  a  rich 
woman,  who  would  presently  laugh  at  his  suit, 
the  stoic  within  him  awoke.  He  was  not  a  mere 
vain  coxcomb.  He  could  appoint  boundaries  to 
himself ;  he  could  bid  the  seas  retire. 

Being  a  stoic,  he  felt  that  it  was  safe  to  go  to 
Mrs.  Childe's  to  dinner.  As  he  rang  the  bell,  a 
little  coupe  darted  up  to  the  curbstone,  a  man 
alighted  with  the  unquestioning  zeal  of  a  guest  who 
feels  himself  behind  time,  and  ran  up  the  steps. 

"  Did  you  ring  ? "  he  asked  in  a  voice  that 
Breck  recognized. 

"  Yes,"  said  Breck,  "  I  rang.  Good-evening, 
Mr.  Norreys." 

"  Oh,  is  it  you,  Breck  ?  How  are  you  ?  Are 
you  of  the  party  ?  I  was  afraid  I  was  late." 

They  were  admitted ;  their  overcoats  were  sol- 
emnly removed  by  Wilkins,  who  waved  his  hand 


128  CIPHERS. 

towards  the  small  drawing-room.  Norreys  led  the 
way,  and  Breck  followed  as  if  in  a  dream.  Mr. 
Childe  was  standing  on  the  hearth-rug  discoursing 
to  Mrs.  Fletcher,  and  under  the  glow  of  a  tall, 
crimson-draped  lamp  Mrs.  Childe  was  sitting  on  a 
sofa  talking  to  Miss  Hurst.  It  was  evidently  a 
dinner-party,  and  Breck  felt  that  in  some  way  he 
had  bungled.  He  must  have  mistaken  the  day  or 
the  hour,  for  he  had  been  asked  to  bring  the  plans 
of  the  country  house  and  discuss  them  quietly.  He 
felt  his  face  flame,  and  the  blood  tingled  even  to 
his  finger-tips  at  the  thought  of  having  forced  him- 
self upon  this  intimate  coterie.  But  Mrs.  Childe 
advanced  as  if  she  expected  him.  She  greeted 
Mr.  Norreys  with  a  smile  and  some  easy  phrase, 
then  turned  to  Breck  and  held  out  her  hand,  say- 
ing,— 

"  So  good  of  you  to  come.  I  shall  give  Miss 
Hurst  to  you  ;  see  that  you  talk  to  her." 

As  she  spoke,  she  bent  her  head  a  little  on  one 
side  and  looked  at  him  with  a  peculiar  glance 
whose  roguishness  perplexed  him.  It  was  all  a 
riddle.  Was  this  expression  friendly  sweetness 
and  intimate  fun  at  an  odd  situation,  or  a  planned 
triumph  to  show  him  that  she  had  only  been  play- 
ing with  his  earnestness  ?  He  felt  that  he  would 
rather  have  died  than  have  permitted  her  to  gain 
the  faintest  clew  to  what  was  in  his  thoughts. 

He  simply  bowed  and  said,  "  At  your  orders," 
and  she  looked  at  him  questioningly.  She  was 
magnificently  attired,  and  her  dress  gave  force  to 


CIPHERS.  129 

all  Holly  Ruff's  exhortations.  He  needed  just 
this  lesson,  he  said  to  himself.  Hitherto  she  had 
been  dressed  much  like  everyday  people,  perhaps 
with  more  studied  simplicity.  To-night,  for  the 
first  time,  he  saw  her  in  full  evening  toilette.  Her 
gown  was  of  some  material  he  could  only  have  de- 
scribed as  cloth  of  silver  embroidered  with  violets ; 
the  petticoat  he  recognized  as  Venetian  point  lace. 
The  corsage  was  low  in  front,  and  her  beautiful 
arms  were  bare ;  at  each  shoulder  was  a  diamond 
clasp.  She  wore  a  girdle  studded  with  precious 
stones,  and  there  was  a  diamond  aigrette  in  her 
golden  brown  hair.  Every  detail  of  the  splendid 
toilette  seemed  to  burn  itself  into  Breck's  percep- 
tions, and  the  easy  repose  of  her  manner  was  an 
affront. 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  ball  ?  "  Miss  Hurst  in- 
quired as  they  sat  down  at  table.  No,  he  re- 
plied, he  never  went  to  balls.  When  she  asked 
him  why  he  stayed  away  he  said  that  perhaps  it 
was  that  a  crowd  was  so  fatal  to  a  woman's  beauty, 
to  say  nothing  of  her  style  and  individuality.  One 
gown  puts  out  another. 

"  For  example,"  he  remarked,  "  you  have  on  a 
charming  costume  of  shrimp  color,  but  contrasted 
with  rose  pink  or  true  yellow  where  will  it  be  ?  " 

"  You  alarm  me,"  said  Miss  Hurst.  "  I  have 
often  felt  myself  thin  away  into  insignificance  at  a 
ball  where  all  my  favorite  partners  danced  with 
other  girls,  and  my  dearest  foes  had  all  the  good 
times.  I  see  now  what  the  matter  was,  —  I  had 


130  CIPHERS. 

chosen  my  gown  unfortunately.  How  about  Mrs. 
Childe's  ?  Will  that  hold  its  own  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Childe  will  triumph  in  spite  of  her 
gown,"  said  Breck. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  suggest  that  it  is  not  the 
loveliest  thing  you  ever  saw  in  your  life  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  too  old,  —  that  is,  if  she  did  not 
look  so  young." 

"  That  is  what  I  told  you,  Milly,"  Mr.  Childe 
struck  in.  "  Too  gorgeous  altogether.  Only  fit 
for  a  dowager." 

"  Mrs.  Childe,  I  come  to  your  relief,"  said  Whi- 
ley  Norreys.  "  Your  gown  is  superb,  also  fitting. 
I  may  say,  too,  that  my  opinion  of  a  woman's 
toilette  is  worth  having,  for  it  is  based  on  exact 
knowledge." 

Breck,  who  experienced  more  and  more  a  sense 
of  revolt,  felt  at  the  same  time  his  spirits  rise.  His 
annoyance  took  the  form  of  mischief,  and  he  played 
the  pranks  of  a  saucy  boy.  He  declared  that  Mr. 
Norreys's  speech  had  charmed  him,  only  it  stopped 
short  on  the  brink  of  interesting  revelations.  How 
does  a  man  gain  an  exact  knowledge  about  a  wo- 
man's gowns  ?  He  pressed  questions  as  to  the  ex- 
act number  of  gowns  Norreys  had  been  intimately 
acquainted  with  ;  insisted  upon  definite  particulars ; 
would  allow  no  vagueness,  no  haziness.  Norreys 
took  the  cue  and  discoursed  on  the  gowns  he  had 
known,  of  many  of  which  he  had  been  the  inspirer. 
Breck  attacked  him  from  first  one  and  then  the 
other  flank,  prodding  his  memory  with  questions 


CIPHERS.  131 

which  seemed  to  show  an  impish  knowledge  of  all 
the  other's  little  adventures.  In  fact,  he  longed  to 
do  or  say  something  audacious,  which  should  shock 
every  one  at  table.  The  effect  he  produced,  how- 
ever, was  of  cutting  boyish  capers  out  of  mere  fun 
and  high  spirits.  Everybody  laughed,  Milly  each 
moment  growing  more  animated ;  a  blush  crept 
into  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  a  happy 
light.  Whiley  Norreys,  wound  up  to  the  point  of 
talking,  freely  told  one  story  after  another,  each  of 
the  sort  which  could  be  told,  of  course,  with  him- 
self always  as  central  figure. 

"  I  never  had  the  least  idea  you  were  so  success- 
ful with  the  women,  Norreys,"  remarked  Mr. 
Childe  with  admiration.  "  I  wonder  how  you 
managed  it.  I  will  say  I  have  slain  my  thousands, 
but  you  have  slain  your  tens  of  thousands." 

"  Just  think  of  a  man's  being  satisfied  with  one 
love  affair  after  hearing  these  boasts,"  saidGeorgy 
Hurst.  "However,  I  myself  prefer  a  more  con- 
centrated form  of  devotion.  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
anybody's  one  hundred  and  eleventh." 

"  Women  are  so  insatiable,"  said  Mr.  Childe. 
"  That  is  why  I  wonder  at  Whiley's  good  luck. 
How  did  he  contrive  to  satisfy  any  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  take  it,"  said  Norreys  modestly,  "  that  it  is 
the  happy  province  of  certain  men  to  throw  more 
depth  of  feeling  into  the  art  of  kissing  a  woman's 
hand,  or  putting  her  cloak  on  her  shoulders,  than 
other  men  can  show  by  a  whole  lifetime  of  devo- 
tion." 


132  C1PHEES. 

"  I  call  that  sort  of  fellow  dangerous,  very  dan- 
gerous," said  Mr.  Childe,  wagging  his  head. 

"  What  I  wonder  at,  Whiley,"  Mrs.  Fletcher 
said,  "  is  that,  with  all  these  successes,  you  were  not 
married  long  ago.  I  always  say,  however,  that  the 
man  who  has  many  love  affairs  has  a  cold  heart." 

"  A  cold  heart !  "  repeated  Norreys,  with  some 
natural  indignation.  "  No  woman  ever  said  that 
of  me." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Hurst.  "  To  be  sure  I 
never  made  any  impression  upon  it  myself,  but  "  — 

"  You  don't  know,  Miss  Georgy,"  retorted  Nor- 
reys. "  If  I  have  not  married  hitherto,  it  has  been 
because  "  — 

"  Because  you  were  too  magnanimous,"  remarked 
Milly.  "  Marriage  is  such  a  selfish  institution." 

"  Partly  that,"  Norreys  conceded.  "  I  did  not 
wish  to  marry  too  soon.  Then  I  am  nothing  if 
not  fastidious." 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  us  what  your  require- 
ments are,  Mr.  Norreys,"  said  Breck  demurely. 
"  One  would  like  to  know  whether  they  could  or 
could  not  be  fulfilled." 

"My  wishes  are  not  immoderate,"  returned 
Norreys.  "  To  begin  with  "  — 

"  To  begin  with,  her  face  is  her  fortune,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Georgy  Hurst. 

"  Well,  I  do  not  want  too  beautiful  a  wife  "  — 

"  Then  I  am  out  of  the  question,"  murmured 
Milly. 

"  Nor  too  poor  a  wife,"  proceeded  Norreys,  not 
catching  the  words. 


CIPHERS.  133 

"  Then  he  does  not  mean  me,"  said  Georgy. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  one  of  suitable  age,  and 
discreet,"  put  in  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

"  Don't  get  one  who  is  too  discreet,"  said  Mr. 
Childe.  "  My  wife  was  the  soul  of  discretion,  — 
never  told  me  anything." 

Norreys  bowed,  smiled,  and  took  it  all  in  such 
good  part,  that  Breck  blushed  to  think  of  his  own 
pettishness.  The  dinner  was  not  a  long  one,  and 
the  moment  it  was  over  he  pleaded  an  engagement 
and  took  leave.  He  had  hardly  met  Mrs.  Childe's 
eyes  since  he  came  in  until  now,  when  she  held  out 
her  hand. 

"  If  you  will  go,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  we 
might  easily  take  you  to  the  ball  if  you  will  come 
with  us." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  he  said  with  decision.  It  would 
not  have  been  easy  for  her  to  understand  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face;  she  had  little  idea  of  what 
feelings  were  behind  the  fire  in  his  eyes,  and  why 
he  looked  so  pleading,  so  handsome,  and  yet  so  de- 
fiant. 

""Will  you  come  again  very  soon?"  she  asked. 
"  Perhaps  to-morrow  night  ?  " 

"  Not  to-morrow  night,"  he  returned.  When 
he  found  himself  in  the  street  he  accused  himself 
of  roughness,  of  bad  manners.  He  would  have 
been  amazed  if  he  had  heard  those  he  had  left  be- 
hind extolling  him  to  the  skies  :  a  charming  young 
fellow ;  no  egotism,  no  self-sufficiency,  possessing 
some  sense  of  humor,  willing  to  listen  and  enjoy, 


134  CIPHERS. 

and  not  criticise  the  universe.  Meanwhile,  he  felt 
himself  plunged  in  chaos.  All  his  impressions 
seemed  to  be  shifting  and  changing ;  black  seemed 
white,  and  white  black.  He  could  not  understand 
why  Mrs.  Childe  had  included  him  in  the  dinner- 
party, which  was  a  mere  tryst  where  her  friends 
gathered  to  take  her  to  the  ball.  He  was  ready  to 
accuse  her  of  all  the  cruelty  and  coquetry  which 
Holly  Ruff  had  ascribed  to  her.  She  had  dressed 
herself  like  a  queen,  and  then  had  looked  at  him 
with  that  half-mischievous  air  as  if  asking  how  he 
liked  her  royal  trappings.  He  said  to  himself  that 
he  began  to  understand ;  and  he  stamped  his  foot 
on  the  pavement.  She  was,  after  all  that  was  im- 
puted to  her,  good-natured  ;  she  possessed  frank- 
ness and  independence  of  character,  and  the  truth 
was,  when  she  saw  that  he  had  been  so  much  en- 
couraged by  her  kindness  as  actually  to  think  of 
—  of  being  in  love  with  her,  she  had  taken  this 
means  of  bringing  him  to  his  senses.  A  man 
would  be  bold,  indeed,  who  would  dream  of  taking 
the  hand  of  the  woman  he  had  seen  that  evening  — 
of —  He  could  not  formulate  his  whole  thought, 
for  his  blood  seemed  to  be  on  fire  in  his  veins.  He 
wished,  instead,  to  put  away  from  his  mind  every 
suggestion  of  Mrs.  Childe,  as  a  temptation  against 
which  he  must  struggle.  Some  secret  bitterness 
born  of  a  feeling  of  defeat  and  mortification  min- 
gled with  his  resentment. 

It  was  something  to  have   his   course   mapped 
out.     Miss  Rivera  shone  like  a  beacon  out  of  the 


CIPHEBS.  135 

darkness,  beckoning  and  offering  a  refuge.  Yes, 
he  would  go  to  Anita ;  he  would  tell  her  that  he 
wanted  her  for  his  wife.  That  was  his  only  true 
course.  What  a  man  imperatively  needed  was 
something  absolutely  his  own,  —  a  young  girl 
whose  love  belonged  to  him  from  the  first  thrill  of 
sensation.  How  dared  a  man  love  a  widow  ?  How 
could  he  love  her?  Breck  asked  himself  these 
questions  with  a  sort  of  cynicism  as  if  trying  to 
convince  himself  that  he  was  thoroughly  disen- 
chanted. He  could  only  love  a  woman  with  the 
first  maiden  bloom  on  her  lips,  —  no  other  man 
must  ever  have  claimed  her,  must  ever  have  ad- 
mired her. 

With  this  fierce  determination  to  settle  his  un- 
certainties by  engaging  himself  to  Anita  before 
he  slept,  he  experienced  fresh  disappointment  and 
rebuff  when,  on  entering  the  Riveras'  apartment, 
he  found  the  Italian  music-master  talking  eagerly 
to  his  pupil,  while  he  walked  up  and  down  the 
room  gesticulating  violently,  now  and  then  stop- 
ping to  strike  the  table  a  blow,  whether  in  wrath 
or  merely  by  way  of  emphasis  Breck  could  not  at 
first  determine.  Signer  Contarini  was  a  Lom- 
bard, large  and  fair,  with  a  round  head,  a  broad 
face,  large  brilliant  blue  eyes,  and  a  huge  mus- 
tache, which  curled  up  at  the  corners  after  the 
fashion  of  some  once  powerful  European  poten- 
tates'. His  ample  waistcoat  was  cut  low,  as  if 
with  a  view  of  displaying  dazzling  white  linen  and 
an  azure  scarf  in  which  was  stuck  a  pin  containing 


136  CIPHERS. 

diamonds  of  surprising  size.  He  glanced  impa- 
tiently towards  Breck  as  he  entered,  but  did  not 
interrupt  his  harangue. 

"  Ze  voice,"  he  was  saying,  "  is  an  instrument 
like  ze  ozzer  instruments,  only  it  is  more  delicate, 
and  it  suffers  from  being  incased,  not  in  a  baize 
bag,  not  in  a  box,  but  in  ze  human  frame,  which 
is  exposed  to  every  danger.  You  would  not  t'ink 
of  putting  a  violin  where  ze  rough  airs,  ze  harsh 
contact,  could  touch  its  strings.  But  you  take  no 
such  care  of  your  voice,  alzough  ze  least  annoy- 
ance, ze  faintest  breat'  of  feeling,  may  injure  it 
fatally.  I  ask  you,  Miss  Rivera,  to  watch  your- 
self until  to-morrow  like  some  precious  commodity, 
like"  — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Breck,"  exclaimed  Miss  Rivera  sud- 
denly, catching  sight  of  her  visitor,  and  running 
towards  him  with  outstretched  hands.  "  I  am 
actually  engaged  to  sing  at  a  concert  at  Schumann 
Hall  to-morrow  afternoon." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  said  Breck  with  dismay  ;  then 
feeling  as  if  he  were  permitting  his  selfish  disap- 
pointment to  retard  the  free  play  of  his  sympa- 
thies, he  said  to  Contarini,  as  they  shook  hands, 
"  I  hope  your  pupil  will  have  a  great  success." 

"  I  tell  her,"  said  the  Italian,  "  zat  zere  are  tree 
sooccesses,  —  ze  succes  d'estime,  ze  grand  succes, 
and  ze  succes  magnifique,  colossal." 

"  I  hope  Miss  Rivera's  will  be  the  succes  magni- 
fique, colossal,"  said  Breck. 

"I   shall  be   zat-is-fied  wiz  ze  grand  succes," 


CIPHERS.  137 

said  Contarini.  "  A  succes  colossal  at  ze  outset  " 
—  he  made  a  gesture  of  dismissing  it  to  limbo  — 
"  may  be  a  meesfortune  colossal." 

"  Have  it  a  grand  succes  by  all  means.  Just 
enough  to  stimulate  without  making  her  believe 
that  she  does  not  need  to  go  on  working  hard." 

"No  need  to  go  on  working  hard?"  shrieked 
Contarini.  "  Zere  is  every  need.  What  is  accom- 
plished genius  ?  A  long  toil,  an  endless  fast !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Breck  soothingly.  "  We  all 
know  that.  Miss  Rivera  understands  that  she  has 
embarked  on  a  career  which  necessitates  absolute 
self-abnegation.  She  never  even  eats  a  bonbon 
nowadays.  But  I  am  curious  to  hear  how  this 
wonderful  good  fortune  has  come  about." 

He  was  at  once  informed  that  Anita  was  to  sing 
at  the  debut  of  Frauleiu  Lemcke,  the  violinist,  a 
youthful  prodigy,  a  pupil  of  Herr  Joachim's,  who 
had  been  brought  over  by  Bayliss,  the  clever 
impresario  whose  undertakings  had  as  a  rule  met 
with  distinguished  success.  Fraulein  Lemcke  was 
to  be  assisted  by  her  regular  accompanist,  Benski, 
Zriny  the  pianoforte  virtuoso,  Herr  Weil,  a  favor- 
ite baritone  of  the  Wagner  school,  and  Mile. 
Dam  pier,  the  soprano.  Unluckily,  Mile.  Dam  pier 
had  fallen  ill,  at  Albany,  of  congestion  of  the  lungs, 
and  Bayliss,  compelled  to  look  up  another  singer, 
had  gone  to  Contarini  in  despair,  declaring  that 
not  a  soprano  was  attainable.  The  Italian  at  once 
told  him  he  had  a  promising  pupil  ready  to  be 
launched,  Miss  Rivera  had  been  sent  for  and  had 


138  CIPHERS. 

sung  with  a  charm  and  brilliancy  which  de- 
lighted Baylis's,  who  not  only  had  engaged  her  for 
the  next  afternoon's  performance,  but  threw  out 
hints  as  to  the  possibility  of  including  her  in  his 
company.  It  could  hardly  be  wondered  at  that 
Miss  Rivera  walked  on  air,  and  felt  that  all  her 
dreams  were  coming  to  pass,  and,  looking  at  her, 
Breck  said  to  himself  that  no  matter  how  she  sang 
at  the  concert,  if  she  only  looked  as  pretty  as  she 
looked  to-night  all  New  York  would  be  ready  to 
applaud  her.  He  inquired  about  the  FrHulein. 

"  Oh,  a  fright,"  said  Miss  Rivera.  "  Thirty  at 
least,  I  should  say  from  her  appearance,  although 
they  proclaim  her  as  a  youthful  phenomenon.  She 
has  straw-colored  hair,  her  nose  is  so  thick," 
measuring  some  inches  on  her  own  pretty  hands, 
"  and  her  complexion  is  muddy." 

"  She  has  good  eyes,"  struck  in  Contarini, 
"  she  has  eyes  like  ze  forget-me-nots  of  her  native 
land." 

"  I  did  not  see  them,"  said  Miss  Rivera,  with  a 
half  shrug ;  "  she  did  not  trouble  herself  to  raise 
them  to  look  at  me.  But  I  could  see  her  ill- 
fitting  clothes.  Such  a  figure !  Dowdy !  No 
distinction !  " 

"  Find  out  ze  charm  of  her,  not  ze  faults,"  said 
Contarini  with  a  warning  forefinger.  "  Do  not 
t'ink  of  her  as  a  rival.  She  has  ze  virtuosity,  she 
has  ze  technique,  she  has  ze  love  for  art;  let  it 
help  yours.  You  do  not  wish  to  surpass  her. 
You  are  both  of  ze  same  profession ;  you  have  ze 


CIPHERS.  139 

same  ambition  to  make  ze  sympat'y  of  your  audi- 
ence t'rill  wiz  a  sense  of  all  that  is  lofty  and 
beautiful  in  ze  music." 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,"  said  Breck.  "  No  jealousy ; 
no  competition.  In  fact,  there  could  be  none,  any 
more  than  a  painter  feels  towards  a  sculptor." 

"  I  am  not  jealous  of  Fraulein  Lemcke,"  said 
Miss  Rivera ;  "  I  really  am  very  grateful  to  her. 
Only  as  the  papers  talk  about  her  as  a  girl  in  her 
teens,  I  was  a  little  taken  aback  by  the  sight  of  a 
woman  at  least  half  a  dozen  years  older  than  I 
am,  in  an  ugly  brown  ulster  and  a  Derby  hat. 
I  am  sure  I  wish  her  all  success,  —  a  most  brilliant 
de"but." 

"You  may  safely  wish  her  a  brilliant  debut," 
observed  Contarini  with  emphasis.  "  Her  success 
will  be  your  ladder.  She  will  light  ze  match 
which  sends  up  your  rocket.  See  that  you  keep  it 
a  blazing  torch  in  ze  zenit'." 

"Perhaps  I  might  have  succeeded  even  if  the 
Fraulein  had  never  been  born,"  said  Miss  Rivera 
with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

"Perhaps!  Do  not  be  too  sure.  Do  not  be 
carried  away.  T'ink  not  of  ze  Fraulein,  but  of 
your  art ;  not  of  your  public,  but  of  your  teacher, 
who  has  tried  to  implant  ze  eternal  principles  of 
trut',  of  beauty,  of  great  music.  Zis  is  ze  grand 
experiment.  Perhaps,  who  knows,  you  will  one 
day  say,  '  Before  I  sang  at  zat  first  concert  I  did 
walk  on  my  two  feet,  after  zat  I  did  have  a  cab, 
and  now  —  I  have  a  barouche  magnifique  wiz  two 
horses.' ' 


140  CIPHERS. 

"  Four!  four! "  cried  Anita.  "  I  insist  upon  hav- 
ing four  at  least !  "  But  Contarini's  speech  had 
been  uttered  in  benediction  at  the  door,  which  he 
had  now  closed  behind  him. 

Breck,  left  alone  with  the  girl  whom  he  had 
decided  it  was  his  duty  to  ask  to  be  his  wife,  felt 
his  heart  beat.  He  was  excited,  and  could  have 
put  spirit  into  almost  any  role  he  attempted. 
Still,  he  was  not  so  wholly  dominated  by  his  reso- 
lution as  to  be  blind  to  the  fact  that  this  was  not 
an  auspicious  moment  for  making  love  to  Anita, 
who  was  in  a  state  of  youthful  exultation  as  she 
saw  opening  before  her  the  destiny  of  which  she 
had  long  dreamed.  Sentiment,  passion,  were  to 
her  as  if  they  did  not  exist.  He  was  quite  certain 
that  she  would  rather  have  a  column  of  praise  in 
the  morning  paper  than  the  tenderest  love  confes- 
sion. What  she  was  dreaming  of  was  success, 
honors,  adulation,  riches.  Still  resolute,  although 
he  was  to  control  circumstances  instead  of  being 
controlled  by  them,  he  might  have  gone  on  to 
state  his  views  in  logical  order  if  Anita  had  given 
him  the  opportunity.  She  no  doubt  attributed  the 
fire  in  his  eyes  and  the  peculiar  softness  of  his 
manner  to  their  just  cause,  and  it  added  to  her 
elation  to  realize  that  nothing  failed  her  in  this 
happy  moment.  Although  admirers  might  be  a 
superfluity,  it  was  something  to  have  an  impas- 
sioned auditor  who  would  listen  to  her  overflow  of 
feeling,  sympathize  with  her  excitement,  and  help 
her  to  realize  the  far-reaching  meanings  of  this 
unique  opportunity. 


CIPHERS.  141 

Breck  after  a  while  adjusted  his  intellect  and 
imagination  to  the  practical  exigencies  of  the 
situation. 

"I  suppose  you  have  some  adorable  gown  to 
wear,"  he  ventured  to  remark. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Months  ago  Maddy  insisted  that  I 
should  be  prepared  for  any  emergency,  and  we 
bought  a  yellow  satin.  She  is  so  clever  about 
such  things ;  she  made  it  for  me  herself." 

Breck  shuddered.  He  remembered  certain  tea- 
gowns  worn  by  Mrs.  Hugh  Rivera,  ambitiously 
designed  on  great  models. 

"I  hope  it  is" exactly  the  right  thing,"  he  said 
anxiously. 

"I  will  try  it  on  if  you  like,"  Miss  Rivera 
returned  graciously. 

Breck  caught  eagerly  at  the  suggestion,  and 
when  Mrs.  Hugh  Rivera,  on  being  called  in  for 
consultation,  demurred  slightly,  he  argued  with  a 
persistency  which  reminded  him  of  Whiley  Nor- 
reys's  pretensions  that  he  was  the  best  possible 
judge  of  a  gown. 

"  I  do  not  consider  that  any  man  can  have  any 
clear  comprehension  of  such  matters,"  said  Mrs. 
Rivera.  "  Hugh  makes  the  most  absurd  criticisms 
on  my  prettiest  dresses.  However  " 

She  yielded,  and  went  off  with  her  sister-in-law 
to  put  on  the  yellow  satin  which  was  to  help  or 
hinder  the  young  singer  in  her  first  appearance  on 
the  stage.  Left  alone,  Breck  sat  down  at  the 
piano  and  struck  a  few  notes ;  but  they  jarred 


142  CIPHERS. 

upon  him.  Like  a  soul  in  trouble,  he  started  up, 
and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  few  feet  of 
area  the  small  crowded  room  afforded.  A  phan- 
tom seemed  suddenly  to  have  risen,  and  it  con- 
fronted him  with  the  aspect  Mrs.  Childe  had  worn 
when  he  met  her  that  evening.  He  seemed  to 
see  her  lovely  clear  features  filled  with  that  won-, 
derfully  sweet  and  truthful  expression  he  had 
never  found  in  any  other  woman's  face.  She 
looked  at  him  archly,  smiling  as  if  some  joke  lay 
behind  his  finding  her  surrounded  by  guests  and 
wearing  such  a  splendid  gown.  While  he  had 
been  sitting  beside  her  at  table,  he  had  taken 
pains  never  to  look  at  her,  but  now  her  image  was 
close  beside  him ;  he  could  see  nothing  else ;  it 
was  absolutely  life-like,  —  even  to  the  dimple  on 
her  elbow.  A  sense  of  her  beauty,  of  her  man- 
ner, gave  him  a  thrill  at  once  delicious  and  pain- 
ful. Tears  rose  to  his  eyes ;  they  blinded  him, 
and  he  stumbled  over  a  chair. 

"Are  you  getting  impatient?"  called  a  gay 
voice  from  the  next  room.  "We  are  almost 
ready." 

He  stamped  his  foot.  He  could  hardly  believe 
his  own  weakness.  He  had  never  expected  to 
play  such  a  part.  He  suddenly  absolved  Mrs. 
Childe  from  any  crime  he  had  imputed  to  her. 
She  was  good,  sweet,  natural, — wholly  without 
the  worldliness  that  cheapened  most  women.  If 
he  had  fallen  in  love  with  her,  if  from  the  first 
moment  he  had  met  her  he  could  not  turn  his  eyes 


CIPHERS.  143 

from  her  face,  could  never  hear  enough  of  her 
voice,  could  never  tire  of  talking  to  her,  feeling 
impelled  to  tell  her  all  he  had  ever  felt,  known, 
and  seen,  it  was  not  her  fault.  It  was  that  he  was 
young,  that  he  was  lonely,  —  that  for  the  first 
time  he  felt  that  he  understood  and  could  love  a 
woman,  and  that  she  loved  and  could  understand 
him.  She  had  kindled  an  intense  thirst  for  hap- 
piness in  him.  Happiness  !  happiness !  that  was 
what  he  had  longed  for;  that  was  what  seemed 
before  him  when  he  waited,  freezing,  in  the  street 
to  gain  glimpses  of  her,  —  when  he  went  to  see  her, 
when  she  advanced  towards  him  with  that  delight- 
ful movement  he  was  never  tired  of  watching. 
But  what  happiness  meant  he  had  never  put  into 
exact  words.  Holly  Ruff  had  done  that  for  him. 
Only  what  is  unexpected  happens  in  life ;  he  had 
never  supposed  himself  likely  to  be  accused  of 
being  a  fortune-hunter. 

With  the  impassioned  rapidity  of  youth,  he 
determined  to  retrace  his  steps.  "  The  man  who 
has  vigor  may  walk  to  the  east  just  as  well  as 
to  the  west,  if  he  chance  to  turn  his  head  that 
way,"  said  Dr.  Johnson.  Breck  had  told  Holly 
Ruff  that  the  only  woman  he  had  ever  thought  of 
marrying  was  Miss  Rivera,  and  he  would  prove 
his  honesty  and  consistency  by  giving  himself  up 
to  the  thought  of  this  young  girl  exclusively.  A 
man  wanders  about  alone,  perishing  from  thirst 
after  happiness,  an  agonizing  and  secret  thirst 
which  he  believes  can  only  be  answered  by  attain- 


144  CIPHERS. 

ing  to  the  region  of  some  far-off  glittering  star ; 
when  all  the  while,  at  his  side,  within  reach  of 
his  hand-clasp,  is  exactly  what  his  whole  nature 
craves.  He  and  Anita  belonged  to  the  same 
class,  —  artistic,  educated,  acute,  bent  on  making 
each  spark  of  talent  they  possessed  find  its  equiva- 
lent in  money  and  reputation.  This  pretty,  proud, 
ambitious  girl  could  not  count  too  assuredly  on 
success,  and  she  needed  some  one  to  smooth  the 
rough  places  for  her.  His  real  place  was  at  her 
side.  He  had  unspent  powers  of  work  in  him. 
The  goad  of  necessity  was  what  he  needed,  and 
must  not  the  goad  of  necessity  be  always  behind 
good  work  and  great  art?  He  wanted  no  ease, 
no  wealth,  no  chance  for  sleek  dilettantism ;  he 
wanted  incessant,  devouring  struggle,  —  hard- 
earned  success.  Nothing  worth  having  had  ever 
been  done  in  cold  blood. 

If  only  it  were  all  settled.  If  only  Anita  realized 
how  much  she  needed  him  ;  if  only  this  foolish 
chance  for  singing  in  public  had  not  momentarily 
dazzled  her,  flattering  her  into  the  belief  that  she 
was  to  win  the  great  prize  of  life  for  herself,  with 
what  rapture  could  he  have  taken  her  in  his  arms 
at  this  moment  and  sworn  that  he  would  save  her 
from  the  hard  experience  he  coveted  for  himself. 

At  this  moment  Anita  emerged  from  the  inner 
room  with  the  assured  step  of  an  Atalanta  who 
feels  strength  to  run  her  own  race  and  win  her 
own  goal.  She  looked  so  handsome  that  Breck 
gazed  at  her  as  if  spell-bound  ;  her  eyes  were  full 


CIPHERS.  145 

of  light,  her  cheeks  warm  in  color,  her  smile  ex- 
pressed youthful,  triumphant  happiness.  She  wore 
a  pale  yellow  gown  trimmed  with  a  wealth  of  lace, 
—  lace  was  invariably  a  strong  point  in  Mrs. 
Rivera's  costumes  ;  the  effect  might  be  a  little 
overdone,  but  the  tall,  well-shaped  figure  could 
easily  carry  off  some  display  of  magnificence. 

"  How  do  you  like  it,  Mr.  Breck  ?  "  Mrs.  Rivera 
inquired  anxiously.  The  girl  did  not  need  to  ask ; 
she  read  the  story  of  her  beauty  in  the  young 
fellow's  eyes. 

"I  like  it  extremely,"  Breck  murmured.  "  There 
can  be  no  doubt  it  is  a  handsome  gown,  and 
very  becoming.  That  pale  yellow  suits  the  com- 
plexion." 

"  I  want  to  be  well  dressed,"  said  Miss  Rivera, 
"  and  if  I  have  any  good  looks  I  do  not  want  them 
spoiled  by  some  color  which  does  not  go  with  my 
dark  skin." 

"It  seems  to  be  an  evening  gown,"  ventured 
Breck  timidly.  "  I  suppose,  however,  it  is  the 
correct  thing  to  wear  at  an  afternoon  concert." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Rivera  with  the  ease  of 
assured  knowledge.  "  Singers  always  wear  full 
dress.  You  are  sure  you  like  it,  Mr.  Breck?" 
she  asked  again  with  the  jealous  instinct  of  the 
true  artist,  detecting  some  reserve  in  his  admira- 
tion. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "It  is  of 
course  just  the  right  gown  for  the  occasion,  — 
well  chosen,  well  made,  and  well  worn." 


146  CIPHERS. 

"I  took  no  end  of  pains,"  said  Mrs.  Rivera, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "I  saw  one  like  it  at  an 
'  opening ' ;  that  was  pale  Nile  green,  not  Anita's 
color  at  all.  I  used  to  go  and  sit  before  the  show- 
case day  after  day  and  drink  it  all  in  until  I  had 
every  detail  by  heart.  I  do  believe  that  this  is 
actually  handsomer  than  the  imported  dress, 
although  the  price  of  that  was  said  to  be  four 
hundred  dollars." 

"  One  of  these  days,"  said  Anita  with  intense 
satisfaction  in  present  and  future,  "I  shall  order 
four-hundred-dollar  gowns  from  Paris  by  the  dozen. 
You  shall  have  some  too,  Maddy,"  she  added,  with 
a  pretty  and  grateful  caress  to  her  sister. 

Certainly,  it  was  hardly  the  moment  for  Breck 
to  offer  marriage  when  Anita  was  in  a  state  of 
mind  to  order  four-hundred-dollar  gowns  by  the 
dozen.  He  resigned  his  aspirations  for  that  night 
at  least. 


VII. 

HE  searched  row  after  row  of  the  parquet  when 
he  entered  the  concert  hall  next  day,  hoping  to  find 
a  familiar  face.  Pie  had  begged  Holly  Ruff  to  ac- 
company him,  but  Ruff  was  too  busy  a  man  to  be 
able  to  sacrifice  an  afternoon  even  for  Miss  Rivera's 
debut.  He  promised,  instead,  to  bespeak  some  fa- 
vorable press  notices  from  certain  musical  critics 
at  almost  any  sacrifice  of  conscience  to  friendship. 
This  was  a  point  gained,  yet  Breck  longed  to  di- 
vide his  agitations,  hopes,  and  fears  with  some  one 
near  at  hand.  He  was  anxious  about  Anita,  di- 
vining how  her  heart  throbs  were  measuring  out 
painfully  this  interval  of  suspense.  It  might  have 
been  a  difficult  matter  to  decide  the  question  of 
his  consistency.  He  longed  to  have  her  succeed 
in  a  way  to  answer  her  wildest  hopes,  yet  he  car- 
ried behind  this  wish  the  vibrating  consciousness 
that  if  she  failed  he  was  to  teach  her  to  welcome 
defeat,  since  it  brought  her  nearer  to  him,  per- 
mitted him  to  press  sweeter  ideals  upon  her  than 
she  had  yet  known,  and  to  show  her  that  love  is 
enough  for  a  woman.  Meanwhile,  what  was  essen- 
tial was  to  fulfill  the  duty  of  the  present  moment 
and  suspend  every  thought  of  further  action  until 
the  right  moment  came.  He  longed  to  find  an 
acquaintance  whom  he  might  bribe  or  buy  to  aid 


148  CIPHERS. 

him  in  bestowing  some  sort  of  recognition  upon 
the  young  songstress.  The  seats  were  chiefly  oc- 
cupied by  ladies,  who  were  settling  themselves 
with  little  movements  and  gestures  suggestive  of 
birds  pluming  their  feathers  and  sharpening  their 
bills.  There  was  a  flutter  of  programmes  and  a 
soft  buzz  of  voices.  Two  or  three  mature  women 
glanced  back  at  Breck  with  the  sunny  benignity  of 
vision  which  his  youth  and  good  looks  perhaps  de- 
manded, but  they  were  strangers  ;  all  were  stran- 
gers, and  he  experienced  a  hopeless  feeling  of  dis- 
tance, of  isolation.  Each  seemed  so  individual,  so 
interested  in  herself,  so  well  satisfied  with  herself, 
so  critical  of  all  outside  herself,  that  it  was  useless 
to  hope  for  any  favorable  judgment  from  any  one 
of  them.  Not  one  seemed  to  realize  that  this  was 
no  mere  every-day  concert;  that  the  dull,  empty 
stage  with  its  grand  piano  and  music  stand  was  an 
arena  looked  forward  to  with  hopes  and  fears,  shiv- 
ering dread  and  repugnance,  and  that  although  the 
fair  gladiators  would  not  come  forth  and  say, 
"  Morituri  te  salutant"  the  struggle  for  life  was 
shortly  to  take  place  before  the  eyes  of  the  indif- 
ferent spectators. 

However,  he  was  not  inspired  to  frame  his  ap- 
peal to  humanity  in  words,  and  now,  failing  to  meet 
a  single  glance  or  smile  of  recognition  from  any 
one  in  the  audience,  he  discontentedly  walked  back 
to  the  door,  wondering  if  perhaps  the  best  thing  he 
could  do  were  not  to  go  behind  the  scenes  and  find 
Anita.  Suddenly  he  gave  a  start  of  joyful  sur- 
prise. 


CIPHERS.  149 

"Poorshaw!"  he  exclaimed,  putting  his  hand  on 
the  shoulder  of  a  young  man  who  was  leaning  list- 
lessly against  the  wall.  "  How  glad  I  am  to  see 

you ! " 

"  Hello,  Breck,  is  that  you  ?  "  said  Geddes  Poor- 
shaw, staring  at  the  architect  with  some  surprise 
at  the  unexpected  warmth  of  his  greeting.  "  How 
are  you  ?  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  too.  I  was  won- 
dering why  I  had  promised  to  come  to  this  affair. 
I  thought  there  was  not  a  soul  here  to  speak  to." 

"  I  have  been  looking  all  over  the  house  for 
somebody  I  know,  but  in  vain,"  said  Breck,  glow- 
ing with  pleasure  and  wringing  Poorshaw's  hand 
as  if  he  were  some  long-lost  fidus  Achates.  "  If 
one  wants  to  feel  isolated,  cut  off  from  humanity, 
let  him  enter  a  crowd  of  women." 

"  I  prefer  one  at  a  time  myself,"  said  Poorshaw. 
"  My  only  reason  for  being  here  is,  that  my  sister, 
Mrs.  Floyd,  begged  me  to  come  in  her  place,  as  she 
is  ill.  She  crossed  from  Bremen  with  this  girl,  and 
promised  to  befriend  her.  She  has  engaged  her  to 
play  at  a  musicale  Saturday  night.  They  say  New 
York  will  go  wild  over  her,  —  that  she  is  certain 
to  make  a  sensation." 

"  Oh,  you  allude  to  the  German  violinist  ?  " 

"  Whom  else  ?  " 

"  Poorshaw,"  exclaimed  Breck  fervently,  "  do 
me  a  favor." 

"  Of  course,  anything." 

Poorshaw  was  a  big,  well-made,  ugly  fellow,  on 
whom  one  could  depend  for  a  certain  indifferent 


150  CIPHERS. 

large-heartedness,  and  scorn  of  merely  social  con- 
siderations. Breck  and  he  had  been  thrown  to- 
gether frequently  while  the  Newport  cottages  were 
in  progress,  but  up  to  the  present  moment  had 
rarely  exchanged  an  unnecessary  word.  Friend- 
ship, like  love,  however,  answers  necessity,  and 
can  advance  by  great  strides.  Sure  of  sympathy 
in  his  listener,  Breck  began  with  vivid  picturing 
and  irresistible  logic  to  describe  Miss  Rivera,  and 
the  hard  ordeal  before  her.  Perhaps  to  make  the 
case  stronger  he  refrained  from  any  suggestion 
that  if  she  were  to  fail  to-day  there  might  exist 
certain  compensations  for  her.  He  continued  to 
give  Poorshaw  a  very  distinct  impression  that  the 
girl  was  poor,  almost  friendless,  forced  to  earn  her 
own  way  ;  that  if  she  could  make  money  by  con- 
cert singing  she  was  saved,  and  failing  that  career 
she  was  lost. 

"Poor  thing,"  said  Poorshaw.  "I'll  do  all  I 
can.  I  know  nothing  about  music,  and  care  less, 
but  I  promise  to  applaud  to  the  echo,  whether  she 
sings  like  the  cherubim  and  seraphim,  or  cannot 
raise  a  note." 

"  I  want  her  to  feel  cheered,  not  disheartened,  as 
she  comes  forward,"  said  Breck.  "  I  want  her  to 
be  certain  she  has  some  friends.  The  infernal  thing 
about  being  a  musician  is,  that  you  have  not  only 
to  have  a  voice,  skill,  training,  but  you  have  to 
have  experienced  nerves." 

"  Hush,  they  are  beginning.  Sit  down,"  said 
Poorshaw.  They  went  forward  and  took  their 


CIPHERS. 

seats  in  the  first  row  of  the  balcony  circle.  Herr 
Zriny  was  already  at  the  piano  engaged  in  over- 
coming the  enormous  technical  difficulties  of  Schu- 
mann's Fantasia,  Opus  17.  He  was  followed  by 
Herr  "Weil,  a  baritone,  who  the  season  before 
had  become  a  familiar  and  favorite  figure  on  the 
operatic  stage.  He  seemed  to  have  secured  his 
place  in  the  hearts  of  his  friends,  since  to-day  he 
was  enabled  to  make  a  triumph  out  of  what,  judged 
on  its  own  merits,  might  have  been  a  dismal  fail- 
ure ;  for,  owing  to  the  fact  that  he  was  suffering 
from  a  violent  cold,  his  upper  notes  were  uncertain, 
—  worse  than  uncertain,  — his  middle  register  al- 
most inaudible,  while  his  lower  tones  came  out  with 
such  preternatural  strength  that  the  effect  was 
startling.  Feminine  verdicts  are  said  to  be  an  affair 
of  the  sensibilities  only,  and  probably  his  fair  audi- 
ence was  moved  by  his  dire  need  of  encourage- 
ment. They  would  have  insisted  on  an  encore  had 
not  the  artist  himself,  with  grateful  and  eloquent 
gestures,  made  it  clear  that  such  a  concession 
would  be  at  too  much  cost  to  his  own  chest.  Sid- 
ney Breck  could  not  help  experiencing  satisfaction 
at  these  signs  of  easy  toleration  on  the  part  of  a 
house  he  had  suspected  of  being  over-critical.  If 
these  women  were  so  complaisant  towards  a  fat, 
red-faced  falsetto,  whose  voice  varied  between  a 
painful  baritone  and  a  volcanic  bass,  what  would 
they  not  do  for  a  young  and  pretty  creature  who 
would  trip  forward  presently  in  her  yellow  satin 
and  lace  gown,  her  eyes  beaming,  her  lovely  lips 


152  CIPHERS. 

smiling,  and  her  hands  holding,  with  an  occasional 
coquettish  gesture,  the  roll  of  music  which  con- 
tained the  song  which  would  charm  all  hearts.  She 
was  first  to  sing  "  Lascia  cK  io  pianga"  a  some- 
what worn,  but  yet  eternally  fresh  aria.  Indeed, 
Contarini  piqued  himself  on  the  way  he  had  taught 
Anita  to  sing  what  well  done  could  never  be  hack- 
neyed. "  Every  thirty  years,"  it  was  his  wont  to 
say,  "  a  new  singer  should  arise  who  will  sing  the 
old  songs.  Each  generation  needs  a  musical  re- 
naissance." The  important  matter  was  to  sing 
them  out  of  a  new  inspiration,  discarding  the  tra- 
ditions, the  conventions  of  each  lyrist,  who  in  turn 
has  made  the  songs  her  own.  Anita  in  particular, 
—  of  that  the  music-master  was  quite  certain,  — 
could,  with  unique  genius,  gather  up  the  cast-off, 
half-forgotten  melodies,  invest  them  with  her  own 
fire  and  force,  and  charm  the  world  with  nobody 
could  predict  what  grace  of  unexpectedness,  and 
novel  charm. 

However,  before  Anita's  place  in  the  programme 
was  to  be  filled  up  by  this  delightful  vision  which 
more  and  more  possessed  Breck's  mind,  the  Frau- 
lein  Lemcke  must  appear.  Breck,  naturally  jeal- 
ous for  his  own  protegee,  had  taken  comfort  in  the 
picture  Anita  had  drawn  of  the  violinist.  Conced- 
ing something  to  feminine  malice,  he  had  expected 
to  see  a  robust  Hanoverian,  comparatively  of  mid- 
dle age,  who  would  handle  her  instrument  like  a 
saucepan.  He  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes  when 
there  was  led  out  a  quaintly  pretty  little  creature, 


CIPHERS.  153 

apparently  not  more  than  sixteen,  dressed  in  a 
dark  blue  frock  of  cloth  and  velvet  hardly  reaching 
to  the  ankles.  Her  masses  of  wavy  flaxen  hair, 
arranged  in  braids  whose  long  ends  fell  below  her 
waist,  were  surmounted  by  a  cap  of  dark  blue 
velvet  set  off  by  a  little  feather.  As  she  came  for- 
ward her  lips  were  set  in  a  babyish  curve,  and 
when  she  bowed  her  appealing  blue  eyes  traveled 
about  the  place  as  if  she  longed  somewhere  to  find 
a  friend  and  be  sure  of  some  touch  of  sympathy. 
She  looked  so  childish,  so  naive,  so  pretty,  the 
heart  of  the  audience  opened  to  her  on  the  instant. 
She  was  greeted  with  a  spontaneous  burst  of  ap- 
plause. At  this  she  smiled, —  the  smile  of  a  happy 
infant,  —  and  fitted  her  violin  under  her  soft  white 
chin  with  such  a  blissful  air  of  satisfaction  that 
everybody  vociferously  clapped  again ;  in  fact,  the 
little  Fraulein's  success  was  assured  before  she  had 
played  a  note.  Then,  as  she  drew  her  bow  across 
the  strings  the  impression  was  deepened.  She  was 
not  only  a  charming  child,  she  was  a  virtuoso. 
The  most  captious  critic  could  hardly  have  found 
fault  with  her  performance.  If  it  were  not  marked 
by  clear  individuality  it  yet  established  the  fact 
that  the  musician  was  mistress  of  her  art ;  that 
she  held  ample  powers  in  reserve,  restrained  her- 
self, and  was  bent  only  on  the  reverent  interpreta- 
tion of  the  composition,  one  of  Joachim  Raff 's. 
Of  course  when  she  had  finished,  she  was  enthu- 
siastically applauded,  and  was  not  even  allowed  to 
leave  the  stao-e  for  a  moment.  She  ran  forward 


154  CIPHERS. 

obediently  at  the  recall,  laughed  as  she  bowed,  ad- 
justed her  instrument,  then  with  an  abrupt  eerie 
note  which  announced  strange  things,  she  seemed 
to  grasp  a  fresh  faculty  and  sense  in  every  auditor, 
and  to  bid  them  follow  her  into  a  charmed  circle. 
She  permitted  her  violin  to  play  strange  antics. 
Everybody  gazed,  rapt,  surprised,  under  the  spell, 
yet  hardly  knowing  whether  to  be  shocked  or 
charmed,  fascinated  or  repelled.  There  was  a 
half  uneasy  feeling  that  the  exhibition  was  some- 
thing uncanny.  But  while  every  eye  and  ear  was 
strained  in  expectation,  the  dissonant  discords  re- 
solved one  by  one  into  a  full  melodious  strain. 
Gradually  from  this  emerged  a  melody,  at  first  far 
off,  then  nearer,  evidently  approaching,  and  as  it 
approached  bringing  a  promise.  Nothing  could  be 
sweeter  than  the  higher  registers  of  the  instrument 
from  which  this  melting,  die-away  air  was  beseech- 
ingly invoked.  The  little  strain  was  heard  again 
and  again,  growing  fuller  in  strength.  It  seemed 
now  to  hover  above  and  perpetually  to  descend, 
quivering  restlessly  on  poised  wings  like  a  butter- 
fly; it  was  like  a  beloved  presence,  felt,  expected, 
ravishingly  near,  yet  never  quite  clasped,  —  like  a 
kiss  always  promised,  but  just  eluded.  It  filled  the 
yearning  heart  with  rapture,  the  rapture  which 
comes  just  before  possession.  Alas,  the  charming 
phantom  was  but  playing  hide-and-seek ;  half 
caught,  it  receded,  vanished,  then  returned,  this 
time  as  if  it  were  actually  to  be  grasped,  only  to 
flutter  to  a  greater  and  greater  distance.  It  was 


CIPHERS.  155 

gone,  and  a  sad  sighing  lamentation  was  heard ; 
one  sharp,  swift,  twanging  chord,  and  the  little 
violinist  bowed,  laughed,  and  herself  ran  away 
from  those  she  had  enchanted. 

In  spite  of  his  artistic  enthusiasm  over  Fraulein 
Lemcke's  clever  playing,  Breck  had  listened  with 
a  boding  presentiment,  his  nerves  strung  to  the 
highest  tension.  This  was  success,  dazzling  suc- 
cess. Impossible  that  lightning  should  strike 
twice  in  succession  in  the  same  place.  He 
listened  not  only  with  his  own  senses,  but  with 
the  ears  of  the  girl  whose  turn  was  yet  to  come. 
Bettina  was  recalled  again  and  again,  as  if  the 
audience  were  insatiable  if  for  only  a  glimpse  of 
the  pretty  German  maiden,  who  smiled  and  shyly 
kissed  her  hands,  seeming  always  to  deprecate  the 
very  emotion  she  had  inspired.  After  such  an 
overwhelming  tribute  it  was  impossible,  Breck 
argued,  that  they  should  have  any  feeling  left  for 
Anita,  who  would  instead  be  used  as  a  douche,  as 
it  were,  to  allay  the  fever  pitch  of  excitement 
which  interfered  with  the  progress  of  the  concert. 
His  fears  were  only  too  substantially  confirmed. 
Tiring  of  the  clamor,  in  the  very  midst  of  a  fresh 
salvo  of  applause,  the  opposite  door  from  that 
by  which  Bettina  had  for  the  time  disappeared 
opened,  and  the  accompanist,  followed  by  Con- 
tarini,  appeared,  ushering  forward  a  tall  figure  in 
a  startlingly  bright  yellow  gown,  at  the  sight  of 
whom  all  plaudits  ceased  on  the  instant.  Breck 
felt  ready  to  faint. 


156  CIPHERS. 

"  Is  not  this  the  girl  you  wanted  me  to  clap  ?  " 
inquired  Poorshaw,  nudging  his  companion  and 
recalling  him  to  his  senses. 

"  Yes,"  said  Breck.  "  Come,  let  us  show  people 
she,  too,  has  some  friends  in  the  audience." 

The  two  began  with  no  uncertain  emphasis,  but 
their  volley  gathered  little  force  from  others,  and 
seon  their  own  unaided  endeavors  seemed  to  rouse 
derisive  echoes  in  the  hall. 

"  We  had  better  drop  it,"  whispered  Poorshaw 
with  a  suppressed  chuckle ;  "  see  how  everybody 
stares  at  us.  They  probably  take  us  for  paid 
claqueurs." 

By  this  time  Anita,  led  forward  between  Con- 
tarini  and  the  accompanist,  had  reached  the  front 
of  the  stage.  Breck  suffered  in  every  nerve  as 
he  looked  at  her.  His  tremors  had  been  only 
too  prophetic  when  the  night  before  he  had  said 
to  himself  that  he  was  not  satisfied  that  she 
had  chosen  the  right  sort  of  gown.  In  the  dull 
half-lights  of  the  concert  room,  where  the  late 
afternoon  sunlight  struggled  coldly  to  put  out  the 
gas,  the  yellow  was  too  bright,  the  lace  added  a 
tawdry  effect.  Compared  with  the  childish  Frau- 
lein,  who  in  point  of  fact  was  four  years  her 
senior,  Anita  looked  consummately  adult,  even 
middle-aged.  She  could  not  appear  otherwise  than 
handsome,  but  at  this  moment  her  beauty  did  not 
attract.  Her  large  dark  eyes  traveled  over  the 
house,  not  timidly  and  trustftdly  like  the.  German 
forget-me-nots,  but  almost  defiantly.  Had  she  pos- 


CIPHERS.  157 

sessad  the  requisite  self-command  to  force  herself 
to  smile,  she  might  still  have  charmed  as  she 
bowed ;  as  it  was,  she  bit  her  lower  lip  and  looked 
sulky.  Still,  in  very  desperation,  so  Breck  said  to 
himself,  the  latent  genius  of  the  girl  might  assert 
itself  as  genius  can  assert  itself,  an  irrestrainable 
natural  force  sweeping  away  impediments,  in  fact, 
organizing  what  seems  like  chaotic  defeat  into 
victory.  He  could  read  the  expression  of  her 
face,  and  knew  she  realized  that  her  moment  of 
struggle  had  come,  that  she  had  to  make  her 
choice,  and  if  she  failed  would  be  taken  at  her 
word. 

Contarini,  as  he  supposed,  had  chosen  her  songs 
wisely.  What  he  had  dreaded  was  that  she  should 
be  carried  away  by  excitement  or  enthusiasm. 
Lyrically,  he  could  feel  certain  of  her  voice,  but 
not  dramatically.  He  was  afraid,  not  of  her  show- 
ing herself  tame  and  mediocre,  but  of  being  over- 
ambitious  and  striking  a  false  note.  He  had 
thought  only  of  her  capabilities  and  limitations, 
not  of  the  possibilities  of  the  moment.  Thus  it 
was  of  little  use  for  Breck  to  pray  for  a  song  in 
which  her  irrepressible  idea  might  shape  itself 
into  a  beautiful  artistic  novelty,  for  she  had  only 
Handel's  sublime  aria.  She  rendered  it  very 
faithfully  and  with  some  feeling,  but  the  effect 
was  amateurish,  and  it  left  the  audience  cold. 
They  were  still  under  the  thrill  of  Bettina  Lem- 
cke's  magic,  and  considered  everything  between  her 
two  appearances  as  a  tedious  entr'acte  which  must 


158  CIPHERS. 

be  sat  through  patiently.  They  seemed  not  to 
take  note  of  Anita  save  as  the  hackneyed  cantatrice 
who  fills  up  a  gap  in  the  programme.  The  faint 
applause  which  followed  the  song  was  a  mere 
good-natured  concession  to  an  uninteresting  artiste 
whose  feelings  nobody  wished  to  hurt,  and  it  so 
soon  thinned  and  died  away,  and  any  attempt  on 
the  part  of  Breck  and  Poorshaw  was  so  clearly 
perfunctory,  they  gave  it  up,  feeling  that  the 
singer  was  more  honored  in  the  breach  than  the 
observance  of  the  conventional  encore. 

"I  shall  go  behind  the  scenes  and  speak  to 
Miss  Rivera,"  Breck  remarked  to  his  companion. 

"  Take  me,"  said  Geddes  Poorshaw.  "  I  ad- 
mired her  looks.  I  should  like  to  see  her  close  at 
hand." 

And  close  at  hand  it  must  be  confessed  that 
Anita  was  far  more  charming  than  she  had  been 
at  a  distance.  She  was  sitting  with  Mrs.  Hugh 
Rivera  in  a  small,  cold  room,  well  wrapped  up  in 
furs  to  avoid  the  draughts.  Contarini  was  stand- 
ing before  her  as  the  two  young  men  entered, 
talking  and  gesticulating  violently.  Breck  pre- 
sented Poorshaw  to  the  whole  party,  and  hat  in 
hand  and  with  his  best  air  the  latter  pressed  his 
congratulations  upon  the  songstress. 

"  Yaas,  yaas,"  said  Contarini  striking  in,  "  I  say 
that  it  was  all  very  well,  very  well  indeed;  and 
for  the  fairst  time  it  is  something  to  be  very  well, 
and  not  to  be  a  fiasco  utter  and  overwhelming. 
I  say  to  Miss  Rivera,  *  Rome  was  not  built  in  a 


CIPHERS.  159 

day.'  You  have  the  voice,  you  have  the  intellect, 
and  you  have  the  heart  to  sing ;  you  have  also  the 
defects  of  these  qualities.  You  have  the  nerves, 
you  have  the  high  and  unattainable  ideal,  you  have 
the  doubt  of  yourself.  They  are  as  much  to  mas- 
ter as  the  voice,  and  only  experience  will  conquer 
them.  The  one  thing  important  to-day  was  not  to 
fail,  and  you  have  not  failed." 

"  What  did  you  think  ? "  asked  Anita,  looking 
eagerly  at  Breck. 

"You  sang  admirably.  I  was  horribly  fright- 
ened, and  my  critical  nerves  were  all  on  edge,  yet 
I  could  not  have  asked  you  to  sing  better.  As 
Contarini  says,  the  great  thing  to  achieve  to-day 
was  not  to  fail." 

Miss  Rivera  shook  her  head.  She  had  listened 
first  to  one  and  then  to  the  other  of  the  men  who 
tried  to  comfort  her,  endeavoring  to  detect  their 
real  meaning  behind  their  words. 

"  I  don't  feel  it  to  be  a  success,"  she  said,  with  a 
mutinous  glance  and  smile  which  showed  the  pos- 
sible flash  of  her  eyes  and  her  pretty  teeth.  "  I  am 
not  happy  over  it.  I  know  very  well  I  did  not 
conquer  my  public.  As  I  stood  there  I  felt 
humiliated.  If  you  had  not  been  close  beside 
me,  Mr.  Contarini,  I  believe  I  should  have  turned 
and  run  away.  And  then  to  have  to  sing  '  Lascia 
eft  io  pianga,'  in  which  I  have  to  weigh  every  note, 
as  it  were,  and  listen  to  the  echo  of  my  own  voice. 
If  I  had  only  had  the  scena  from  '  Freischiitz '  or 
even  '  LiebestodJ  I  might  have  put  my  whole  soul 


160  CIPHERS. 

into  my  singing.  Then  when  everybody  was  going 
wild  over  my  voice,  when  they  insisted  on  an 
encore,  I  would  have  said,  '  Never  again ;  you 
were  cold  to  me,  you  gave  me  no  welcome.  Had 
you  offered  a  kind  word  at  the  right  time,  I  would 
have  been  your  slave ;  as  it  is,  never  will  I  sing  to 
you  again ! '  " 

"Softly,  softly,"  said  Contarini.  "It  will  all 
come.  Get  familiar  with  the  work  you  have  to 
do.  You  are  not  yet  an  artist,  you  are  my  pupil. 
It  is  for  me  to  judge,  —  for  me,  who  recognize  dis- 
tinctions of  style,  method,  timbre,  unheard  by  the 
multitude.  I  wanted  to  feel  sure  what  you  could 
do  with  your  voice.  Now  I  understand.  It  is  a 
beautiful  talent;  it  will  reward  effort  and  self- 
renunciation  with  the  very  blossom  of  art.  It  is 
a  voice  that  has  its  root  in  poetry,  in  feeling,  in 
the  great  heart  of  sorrow,  in  the  comprehension  of 
the  highest  and  the  noblest,  in  what  has  made  and 
will  always  make  the  great  art  of  the  world." 

"  It  is  all  of  no  use.  All  the  king's  horses  and 
all  the  king's  men  cannot  reinstate  me  in  my  old 
self-belief,"  said  Anita,  with  a  little  gesture  and  a 
dazzlingly  saucy  smile  at  one  after  another  of  the 
group  of  men  before  her.  "  The  signer  may  talk, 
you  may  talk,  Mr.  Breck,  but  it  was  a  failure,  — 
at  least,  not  a  success.  Now  that  German  girl 
had  what  I  call  a  success ;  she  carried  the  people 
off  their  feet." 

Anita's  eyes  happened  to  rest  on  Poorshaw  as 
she  spoke  the  last  word. 


CIPHERS.  161 

"You  sang  charmingly,"  he  remarked;  "not 
that  it  matters  whether  a  girl  like  yourself  sings 
well  or  ill." 

"  I  assure  you  it  matters  very  much  to  me,"  said 
Anita. 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  take  the  trouble 
to  do  anything  for  a  parcel  of  women  who  actually 
care  nothing  for  music,"  Poorshaw  went  on  with 
an  air  of  indignation.  "  It  is  only  that  they  like 
to  pretend  they  are  doing  something." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  understand,"  cried  Anita, 
with  passion  in  her  face  and  voice,  "  that  music  is 
my  profession.  The  opinion  of  the  public  may  not 
be  worth  caring  about,  but  all  the  same  I  have  got 
to  live  by  it." 

"  I  can't  see  that  at  all,"  retorted  Poorshaw,  with 
a  look  of  ardent  admiration. 

"  I  mean  I  am  obliged  to  earn  my  bread  and 
butter,"  explained  Anita,  looking  superb  in  her 
youthful  scorn. 

"Don't  see  it  at  all,"  Poorshaw  insisted. 
"  What  I  say  is,  if  I  were  you  I  would  not  give 
myself  the  trouble." 

"What  do  you  mean?  That  I  shall  sit  down 
helplessly  and  die  of  starvation?" 

"  Quite  the  reverse,"  said  Poorshaw  enigmati- 
cally. 

Miss  Rivera  listened  apparently  without  com- 
prehension. It  was  time  for  her  to  gather  up  her 
energies  for  her  second  song,  and  Contarini  told 
Breck  to  go  back  to  the  concert-room  and  take  his 


162  CIPHERS. 

friend  with  him.  Anita  passed  her  next  ordeal 
fairly  well.  When  the  concert  was  over,  Poor- 
shaw  was  disappointed  to  find  that  she  had  gone 
home  at  the  conclusion  of  her  song,  attended  by 
her  sister  and  Signer  Contarini.  Breck  was  so 
much  taken  up  with  the  reflection  that  the  after- 
noon had  settled  his  destiny  for  him  that  he 
walked  away  from  the  hall  like  a  somnambulist, 
failing  to  observe  the  impression  made  upon  Poor- 
shaw,  who  talked  of  nothing  but  Miss  Rivera,  and 
expressed  his  admiration  with  an  audacity  which 
might  have  disarmed  any  but  a  jealous  lover  by  its 
extraordinary  naivete. 

"  I  don't  know  a  girl  in  society  who  can  com- 
pare with  her  for  real  good  looks,"  he  said. 

"  I  dare  say  not,"  murmured  Breck ;  "  yet  "  — 

"  She  looked  well  on  the  stage,"  Poorshaw  con- 
tinued, "  but  a  hundred  times  better  off  it.  The 
notion  of  a  girl  like  that  talking  of  earning  her 
own  bread  and  butter  with  starvation  as  an  alter- 
native !  The  idea  of  her  being  exposed  to  the 
criticism  of  a  lot  of  dull,  insignificant  people,  not 
one  of  whom  can  hold  a  candle  to  her !  Why,  she 
has  the  most  superb  eyes,  —  never  have  I  seen  such 
eyes!  They  are  so  full  of  fire,  and  still  at  the 
same  time  they  laugh,  they  challenge,  they  im- 
plore !  It  would  be  positively  cruel  "  — 

"We  talk  of  the  public  being  cruel,"  Breck 
burst  in  at  this  cue,  pursuing  the  thread  of  his 
own  thoughts;  "but,  after  all,  it  is  Art  that  is 
cruel,  when  it  at  once  promises  and  deludes,  gives 


CIPHERS.  163 

and  denies.  Art  should  not  so  easily  surrender 
itself,  —  should  reserve  itself  for  a  full  gift,  not 
offer  slight  favors  to  all  who  seek,  here  a  little 
and  there  a  little ;  to  each  an  insufficient  talent 
which  serves  merely  to  awaken  longings  never  to 
be  fulfilled,  —  takes  away  contentment  and  puts  a 
thorn  of  ambition  in  its  place,  rankling  into  dis- 
enchantment, and  finally  into  bitterness." 

"  I  do  not  consider  that  it  makes  an  atom  of 
difference  to  a  girl  like  Miss  Rivera,"  said  Poor- 
shaw.  "  I  always  insist  that  art  and  books  and 
music  are  simply  intended  for  people  out  of  the 
swim,  or  compensation  for  the  poor  and  the  old, 
the  sick  and  the  unhappy." 

"  There  is  more  than  a  grain  of  truth  in  what 
you  say,"  said  Breck,  and  he  laughed  as  he  looked 
at  the  big,  athletic  fellow. 

They  were  about  to  separate,  when  Poorshaw, 
with  a  sudden  impulse  of  intimate  affection, 
pressed  Breck  to  dine  with  him  at  his  club. 
Breck  declined,  having  a  clear  idea  of  what  was 
before  him  that  evening. 

"  I  wish  you  would  give  me  to-morrow  night 
then,"  said  Poorshaw.  "  I  don't  see  enough  of  you. 
Oli,  by  the  way,  I  suppose  there  would  be  no  harm 
in  sending  Miss  Rivera  some  flowers?  She  might 

o  o 

like  the  attention." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  at  all  necessary,"  said  Breck,  with 
an  air  of  surprise. 

"  It  is  the  usual  thing,  quite  the  usual  thing," 
said  Poorshaw.  "Where  does  she  live?"  He 


164  CIPHERS. 

wrote  down  the  address,  which  Breck  could  not 
find  a  pretext  to  withhold,  with  an  air  of  consider- 
ing it  a  matter  of  high  importance. 

By  eight  o'clock  Breck  was  again  in  the  Riveras' 
little  reception  room.  It  was  manifest  that  Anita's 
spirits  had  not  risen.  She  told  him  that  she  and 
Maddy  had  been  talking  over  the  affair  of  the 
concert,  and  her  manner  made  it  manifest  that 
they  had  touched  the  bottom  of  things,  probed 
the  actual  vital  meaning  of  what  goes  to  make  up 
success  or  failure.  Mrs.  Hugh  Rivera  was  always 
a  close  observer,  and  to-day  her  eyes,  quickened  by 
jealous  instinct,  had  taken  in  certain  nice  details 
on  points  which  had  hitherto  been  obscure  and 
conjectural.  She  had  not  been  dull  in  remarking 
every  feature  of  Fraulein  Lemcke's  toilette.  She 
had  with  jealous  instinct  seen  the  impresario  sur- 
round the  little  violinist  with  an  absolutely  wor- 
shiping care,  while  he  had  neglected  Anita.  She 
was  ready  to  concede  that  there  had  been  a  culpa- 
ble ignorance  of  nice  distinctions  in  the  choice  of 
the  yellow  satin  gown,  yet  she  had  hitherto  piqued 
herself  on  her  knowledge  of  the  fashions.  It  was 
her  habit  to  read  every  item  in  the  papers  con- 
cerning them ;  she  pored  over  fashion-plates  and 
books  of  patterns,  haunted  the  chief  shops  on 
opening  days,  never  went  by  certain  windows 
without  a  careful  study  of  each  figure  displayed, 
and  on  Sundays  it  was  actually  a  piously  con- 
ceived and  executed  duty  to  walk  up  and  down 
Fifth  Avenue  after  morning  service.  She  had 


CIPHERS.  165 

always  declared  that  she  considered  it  her  metier 
to  know  what  was  worn,  and  she  was  now  plunged 
into  actual  humiliation  at  having  made  a  mistake 
in  Anita's  toilette.  "  Let  me  dress  a  woman,  and 
I  care  not  how  she  sings,"  had  been  her  proud 
motto  while  engaged  in  the  concoction  of  the 
yellow  satin  and  lace  gown,  yet  all  the  time  she 
had  failed  to  grasp  the  idea  of  the  situation.  The 
moment  she  saw  Fraulein  Lemcke's  simple  toilette, 
she  had  dreaded  lest  Anita's  furbelows  should 
estrange  everybody's  sympathies,  and  all  that  her 
worst  fears  could  predict  had  come  to  pass. 

"  Now  that  it  is  too  late,  I  see  exactly  what  I 
should  have  done,"  said  Anita,  the  moment  Breck 
sat  down  opposite  her.  "  Instead  of  wearing  that 
dowdy,  old-fashioned  thing,  I  should  have  gone  in 
hastily  in  a  walking-dress,  thrown  down  my  muff, 
loosened  my  boa,  and  taken  up  my  music  as  if  I 
considered  the  occasion  nothing  in  particular; 
then  I  might  at  least  have  had  a  chance  of  success 
from  the  start." 

"  You  will  know  better  what  to  do  next  time," 
said  Breck. 

"  There  will  be  no  next  time.  This  was  a  happy 
chance,  and  I  have  let  it  slip.  Yesterday,  Mr. 
Bayliss  talked  about  the  concert  tour,  —  not  a  word 
of  it  to-day.  And  Contarini !  In  spite  of  all  his 
consoling  words,  I  know  as  well  as  if  I  had  seen 
into  his  soul  that  the  iron  had  entered  there. 
And  I  do  not  wonder  at  his  being  disappointed. 
He  has  been  so  patient,  —  oh,  so  beautifully  pa- 


166  CIPHERS. 

tient,  —  and  what  a  reward  I  gave  him !  When 
I  went  out  in  the  midst  of  the  dying  applause  for 
the  Lemcke,  I  felt  cold,  dull,  disenchanted,  and  I 
showed  in  every  tone  and  every  look  that  I  was 
dull,  cold,  and  disenchanted.  But  how  was  I  to 
be  bright  and  hopeful  ?  There  I  had  been  sitting 
in  that  uncomfortable  place  for  an  hour  and  a 
half,  Contarini  exhorting  me,  beseeching  me, 
threatening  me.  Nobody  else  came  near  me  ;  the 
Lemcke  did  not  notice  me  by  a  word  or  a  smile. 
Our  two  camps  seemed  utterly  hostile.  How  could 
I  do  my  best  in  cold  blood  ?  My  wonder  is  that  an 
artist  can  ever  experience  the  necessary  glow,  the 
thrill,  the  emotion !  Outside,  the  audience  sit 
in  a  beautifully  decorated  auditorium,  on  softly 
cushioned  seats,  with  warmth,  light,  and  a  cheerful 
buzz  of  voices.  The  artists  are  huddled  shiver- 
ing in  a  dingy  little  room,  cold,  draughty,  the 
look  of  everything  suggesting  the  seamy  side. 
Not  a  comfortable  chair  is  to  be  found ;  they  have 
been  made  for  the  stage,  gilded  probably,  but 
without  a  spring,  and  so  slight  in  frame  that  you 
expect  each  moment  they  will  give  way  beneath 
you.  Everybody  looks  cross  and  anxious ;  every- 
body is  finding  fault.  There  is  everything  to 
depress  one,  and  positively  nothing  to  inspire ; 
yet,  in  spite  of  this  tedious  interlude,  in  which  one 
is  torpid  with  chill  and  dread,  one  must  come 
forth  bold,  sure,  coquettish,  conquering  by  sheer 
force  of  will,  smiling  as  if  one  were  happy,  serene 
as  if  one  were  self-confident,  proud  as  if  one  had 


CIPHERS.  167 

one's  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  public,  instead  of 
being  tremblingly  dependent  on  its  favor." 

Break,  touched,  even  thrilled,  leaned  forward 
and  seized  the  girl's  hand  with  a  look  and  manner 
so  direct  that  Mrs.  Rivera,  sitting  by,  divined  that 
he  had  forgotten  he  was  not  alone  with  Anita; 
accordingly,  she  discreetly  went  out,  closing  the 
door  behind  her. 

"  And  to  think,"  Anita  went  on,  goaded  always 
by  the  feeling  that  she  had  been  the  victim  of 
imbecility  and  mischance,  "that  while  I  am  suf- 
fering this  humiliation  and  defeat  Bettina  Lemcke 
is  exulting  in  her  triumph.  I  can't  help  think- 
ing how,  to-night,  she  is  surrounded  by  admirers, 
pressing  forward  to  congratulate  her.  Engage- 
ments are  being  made  for  her  in  every  city  of  the 
United  States.  In  a  few  weeks  she  will  be  able 
to  dictate  terms,  to  demand  what  prices  she  likes. 
She  must  be  out  of  her  senses  over  her  success, 
while  I,  —  oh,  it  is  cruel !  —  I  have  had  so  many 
defeats.  I  have  never  half  told  you,  Mr.  Breck, 
how  much  I  have  gone  through.  I  wanted  to 
write.  I  had  the  power  to  write,  but  nobody  gave 
me  the  least  encouragement.  Then  I  began  to 
paint,  but  although  every  one  who  saw  my  sketches 
was  ready  to  confess  that  they  had  spirit  and  real 
aptitude,  so  many  obstacles  were  put  in  my  way 
that  I  lost  all  interest  in  my  work.  Whatever  I 
set  my  heart  upon  fails  me  at  the  pinch  of  need. 
There  seems  to  be  a  fatality  pursuing  me.  And 
now,  after  all  my  beautiful  dreams,  to  think  that 


168  CIPHERS. 

because  I  was  badly  dressed  and  came  in  while 
the  audience  were  under  the  spell  of  that  little 
German  girl,  whom  yesterday  I  was  ready  to  look 
down  upon  "  —  She  tore  her  hand  away  from 
Breck,  and  flung  both  her  arms  in  air  with  a 
disconsolate  gesture  —  "  Oh,  it  is  too  much,  —  too 
much!" 

Perhaps  this  flood  of  confessions  might  have 
been  stemmed  by  a  lover  actuated  by  genuine  pas- 
sion, but  the  personal  note,  it  must  be  confessed, 
jarred  a  little  upon  Breck. 

"You  speak  as  if  everything  had  come  to  an 
end,"  he  said  reproachfully ;  "  as  if  "  — 

"  Everything  is  at  an  end,"  she  returned  forcibly. 

"Just  because  "  — 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  eat,  I  suppose  I  shall  sleep," 
said  Anita.  "  One  has  to  go  on  living,  and  as 
one  lives  only  by  minutes,  one  mechanically  an- 
swers the  need  of  the  moment.  If  I  think  of 
my  future  life  in  the  aggregate  I  am  frightened 
by  it,  —  without  hope,  without  ambition,  without 
art." 

"  Art  at  least  will  last,  and  you  can  find  some 
compensation  in  that." 

"I  shall  feel  about  my  music  as  I  felt  about 
my  painting.  For  six  months  I  could  not  look 
at  my  easel,  my  palette,  or  my  color-box ;  it  was 
like  coming  upon  the  corpse  of  a  dead  friend." 

"  Anita,"  cried  Breck  with  sudden  impetuosity, 
"  I  have  been  through  all  that.  After  I  laid  down 
palette  and  brush,  it  pierced  me,  —  it  pierced  me 


CIPHERS.  169 

to  the  soul  to  see  a  picture ;  even  to  look  at  a 
landscape  in  nature,  to  see  a  fine  sunset,  the  light 
shining  through  the  branches  of  trees,  brought  my 
heart  to  my  throat.  Now  I  am  wiser  ;  at  least  I 
am  more  sane,  less  egoistic.  I  can  understand 
that  I  pampered  a  little  grief  into  a  great  one. 
Art  has  become  all  the  more  beautiful  and  worthy 
to  me.  I  am  glad  that  men  free  to  follow  art 
could  go  on  doing,  and  doing  better  than  I,  the  work 
I  laid  down.  And  just  so  some  day  you  will  come 
to  realize  that  a  benignant  destiny  had  the  order- 
ing of  all  this.  Life  is  many-sided,  and  you  will 
take  it  up  by  some  new  handle.  I  laughed  at 
Poorshaw  this  afternoon  when  he  said  that  he  saw 
no  good  in  art  except  as  a  consolation  for  the  old, 
the  sick,  and  the  unhappy ;  but  there  is  something 
in  it,  after  all." 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  who  that  Mr.  Poor- 
shaw was,"  said  Anita  with  sudden  interest. 

"His  name  is  Geddes  Poorshaw.  I  designed 
a  cottage  for  his  mother  last  year.  She  was  a 
widow,  and  she  has  since  died,  and  the  cottage 
now  belongs  to  this  young  man.  That  is  the  way 
I  became  acquainted  with  him." 

"  He  must  be  rich." 

"I  suppose  he  must  be  well  off;  how  rich,  I 
don't  know." 

"  How  happened  he  to  be  at  the  concert  ?  " 

"  His  sister,  Mrs.  Floyd,  sent  him  in  her  place. 
She  is  interested  in  Fraulein  Lemcke,  who  is  to 
play  at  her  house  at  a  musicale." 


170  CIPHERS. 

"  There  it  is  again !  "  cried  Anita,  freshly  stung 
by  the  recollection  of  the  rival  into  whose  lap  all 
the  gifts  she  herself  coveted  were  being  thrown. 
"  I  try  not  to  hate  that  girl,  but  it  does  seem  to 
me  unjust  that  she  should  have  everything  and  I 
nothing." 

"  She  has  worked  longer  than  you  and  harder 
than  you.  I  dare  say  she  began  when  she  was 
five  years  old.  There  are  no  miracles  behind  that 
admirable  skill,  but  good  solid,  disinterested  prac- 
tice. She  is  a  virtuoso  used  to  her  work,  and  you 
are  not.  You  need  a  more  thorough  training,  a 
surer  technique.  When  you  have  mastered  your 
voice  to  the  point  of  knowing  to  a  nicety  just 
the  effect  you  can  produce  with  it,  then  you  may 
let  yourself  go,  and  trust  to  the  inspiration  and 
the  intuition  which  are  the  blossom  of  a  perfect  art." 

"  Let  me  have  a  little  success,  and  I  can  work 
as  faithfully  as  any  one,"  said  Anita.  "I  need 
the  elan  which  good  spirits  bring." 

Breck  had  a  sense  of  fumbling,  of  wasting  him- 
self in  generalities.  Narrowness  is  essential  to  a 
lover. 

"  Musicians  are  unlucky,"  he  remarked,  "  in  the 
fact  that  the  supreme  test  comes  when  the  public 
is  looking  on.  Now  a  painter  may  ultimately  fail, 
but  while  he  works  he  has  the  comfort  of  be- 
lieving that  he  is  putting  the  vital  spark  into  his 
work." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  Anita,  "that  even  if  I 
failed  to-day,  I  have  often  enough  not  failed. 


CIPHERS.  171 

I  have  had  my  fine  moments.  I  have  believed  in 
niy  own  power." 

Breck  now  gathered  up  his  strength  for  a  home- 
thrust. 

"  I  do  not  consider  that  you  did  fail,"  he  said ; 
"  but  I  am  ready  to  wish  that  you  had  failed  abso- 
lutely." 

She  gazed  at  him  with  incredulity. 

"  Oh,  you  mean  "  — 

"I  mean,"  he  said,  leaning  forward  and  speak- 
ing with  an  agitated  face,  but  yet  trying  to  carry 
off  his  emotion  by  a  half  laugh,  "that  what  I 
want  is  not  that  you  should  be  a  great  singer,  but 
my  wife." 

She  looked  back  at  him  as  if  in  dismay,  her 
dilated  eyes  .seeming  to  read  him  through  and 
through ;  then,  as  if  compelled  from  the  fire  in  his 
glance  to  believe  in  the  truth  of  his  words,  she 
blushed  and  turned  away. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  hers.  "  Will  you  marry 
me,  Anita?"  he  asked. 

She  smiled  mischievously,  then,  with  her  face 
still  half  averted,  looked  back  at  him  out  of  the 
corners  of  her  eyes. 

"  Why  should  you  wish  to  marry  me  ? "  she 
asked,  as  if  still  incredulous. 

"I  long  to  spare  you,  to  serve  you,  to  watch 
over  you." 

"  Oh,  I  see.     Out  of  pity." 

"  Out  of  pity !  "  he  repeated.  "  What  nonsense, 
—  what  absurdity ! " 


172  CIPHEBS. 

"  How  am  I  to  know  that  you  really  love  me  ?  " 
she  murmured. 

Breck  blushed  deeply;  for  a  moment  he  felt 
conscience-stricken.  Then,  as  if  eager  to  mask 
the  whole  with  the  fragment  of  truth  which  really 
existed,  he  hastened  to  say,  "Have  I  not  been 
coming  to  see  you  for  months?  I  told  a  friend 
of  mine  yesterday  that  you  were  the  only  woman 
I  had  ever  thought  of  asking  to  be  my  wife." 

"Who  was  that,  —  Mr.  Poorshaw?"  she  in- 
quired. 

"No;  Holly  Kuff."  They  had  both  risen,  and 
he  went  up  to  her  and  tried  to  take  her  hand. 
"  Why  do  you  evade  me  ?  Why  do  you  not 
believe  in  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed  reproachfully. 

She  retreated  a  few  steps,  then  with  a  saucy, 
half -mischievous  smile  on  her  face,  which  was 
glowing  with  color,  said,  "  I  did  not  expect  to 
marry  anybody.  I  do  not  want  to  marry  any- 
body yet,  —  not  until  I  have  made  a  great  success 
in  some  way." 

"  That  is  a  very  false  notion  of  life,  which  you 
had  much  better  correct,"  he  said,  taking  a  step 
towards  her. 

She  held  him  off,  as  it  were,  by  an  imperative 
gesture. 

"  But  it  is  not  a  simple  matter  to  marry,"  she 
went  on.  "  I  am  not  an  easily  satisfied  person. 
I  should  be  dreadfully  unhappy,  unless  in  some 
way  I  made  something  brilliant  out  of  my  life. 
I  should  not  like  to  marry  tamely,  like  others,  to 


CIPHERS.  173 

settle  down  in  a  humdrum  fashion."  She  gave 
him  a  laughing  glance.  "  I  should  at  least  insist 
on  being  loved  madly." 

He  had  felt  himself  dull  and  cold,  but  this  bribe 
to  his  ardor  put  fire  into  his  veins.  Up  to  this 
moment  the  phrases  he  knew  he  ought  to  be  utter- 
ing in  such  a  crisis  whirled  confusedly  in  his  head, 
but  his  tongue  was  stubborn.  At  her  challenge, 
however,  he  was  beside  her,  his  arm  was  about  her, 
his  lips  pressed  to  hers. 

"  You  infant,  you  goose  !  "  he  whispered.  "  Is 
a  man  to  sum  up  everything  in  a  sentence? 
Much  you  know  about  the  way  I  can  love  you ! 
Do  you  call  me  tame  ?  Do  you  dare  assert  that 
life  with  me  will  be  a  humdrum  affair  ?  " 

He  held  her  away  from  him,  a  hand  on  each 
shoulder,  and  both  laughing;  they  looked  each 
into  the  other's  eyes. 

"  I  also  object  very  decidedly  to  marrying  any- 
body who  is  poor,"  she  retorted,  her  whole  face 
dimpling  with  fun  and  sweetness.  "  I  have  told 
Maddy  a  hundred  times  that  nothing  would  induce 
me  to  live  in  a  crowded  little  flat  like  this,  up  five 
flights  of  stairs." 

"  You  will  live  exactly  where  I  think  best,"  said 
Breck.  "  Perhaps  in  one  room,  where  you  will 
contentedly  grill  my  chop  and  make  my  cup  of 
coffee." 

"  Never  will  I  live  in  one  room.  Never  will  I 
make  your  coffee  or  grill  your  chop,"  said  Anita ; 
yet  the  expression  of  her  face  belied  her  words. 


174  CIPHERS. 

"  Not  only  will  you  do  it,  but  you  will  exult  in 
it,"  Breck  insisted,  drawing  her  nearer  to  him.  "  I 
think  I  see  you  darning  my  stockings,  putting  but- 
tons on  "  — 

"  Never,  never,  never !  I  assure  you  I  was  not 
born  to  be  any  man's  slave." 

"  You  have  thus  far  mistaken  your  vocation," 
said  Breck.  "  Up  to  the  present  time  you  have 
run  after  false  ideas.  I  will  give  you  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth.  You  must  burn  the  gods  you 
used  to  worship,  and  worship  the  gods  you  used 
to  burn."  He  held  her  face  close  to  his  and 
looked  into  it,  his  own  tremulous  with  feeling. 
"  Anita,"  he  whispered,  "confess  that  you  love  me 
a  little.  Say  you  will  marry  me."  She  made  an 
effort  to  escape,  then,  as  if  she  relented,  met  his 
eyes,  smiled,  and  permitted  him  to  kiss  her. 

"  Now  that  is  settled,"  he  said.  "  You  will  be 
my  wife." 

As  if  this  brought  her  to  her  senses  she  tore 
herself  away  from  him. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  she  said  with  new  energy.  "  I  do 
not  promise  yet.  I  ought  not  to  give  myself  away 
on  an  impulse.  It  is  my  whole  life,  —  my  whole 
life." 

"  It  is  in  return  for  mine,"  said  Breck  seriously 
and  proudly.  "  Do  I  offer  you  nothing  ?  " 

"  It  is  different  with  a  man.  He  still  goes  on 
in  his  career  ;  he  actually  resigns  nothing,  while  a 
woman "  —  But  she  softened,  and  took  a  step 
nearer  him.  "  I  can't  help  loving  you  a  little," 


CIPHERS.  175 

she  said,  with  a  tremulous  laugh.  "  I  do  not  see 
how  any  woman  could.  No,  no,  I  do  not  want  to 
be  swept  off  my  feet,  as  it  were.  Give  me  a  little 
time  to  i-eflect.  I  cannot  at  this  moment  promise 
irrevocably.", 

But  although  she  persisted  in  this  reserve,  and 
said  that  she  must  have  time  to  reflect,  he  laughed 

O 

at  such  scruples.  Certainly  she  had  told  him  she 
loved  him,  could  not  help  loving  him.  She  had 
kissed  him.  He  had  wished  to  anchor  himself, 
and  now  he  was  safely  anchored. 


vin. 

MRS.  LEE  CHILDE  had  but  one  near  relation, 
her  mother's  brother,  Dr.  George  Pardee,  who  was 
the  co-heir  of  the  great  property,  and  indeed  had 
for  many  years  superintended  the  manufacture  of 
the  famous  Elixir,  which  engaged  a  whole  village 
of  work-people  in  New  Hampshire. 

Early  in  January  Dr.  Pardee  came  to  New 
York  to  see  his  niece,  stopping  at  the  Everett 
House,  and  spending  his  mornings  with  her.  His 
object  was  to  consult  Milly  on  the  feasibility  of 
disposing  of  the  business,  for  which  he  had  re- 
ceived a  good  offer.  He  was  growing  older  and 
was  far  from  strong.  He  had  no  heir  except 
Milly,  who  was  glad  to  consent  to  the  sale,  having 
at  times  asked  herself,  with  dismay,  what  in  the 
case  of  her  uncle  George's  death  she  should  do  with 
the  Elixir.  The  negotiations  filled  two  mornings, 
then  on  the  third,  the  last  of  Dr.  Pardee's  stay  in 
New  York,  he  had  a  word  to  say  on  other  matters. 

"  And  how  is  it  with  you,  Emily  ?  "  he  asked. 
He  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  his  face  and  manner  aus- 
tere, yet  expressive  at  times  of  peculiar  sweetness, 
and  his  large  gray  eyes  full  of  expression. 

The  two  were  sitting  in  Milly's  morning  room, 
which  was  delicately,  but  not  luxuriously  furnished. 
She  was  at  her  desk,  and  at  this  question  wheeled 
her  chair  round  and  looked  into  her  uncle's  face. 


CIPHERS.  177 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  your  life  ?  "  he  pro- 
ceeded. 

"  Not  much,"  she  returned.  "  I  decided  to  stay 
in  New  York  and  try  going  into  society  once  more. 
After  all,  papa  is  getting  old;  he  needs  a  com- 
panion." 

"  I  see  that  you  are  here,"  said  Dr.  Pardee.  "  I 
asked  what  you  were  doing." 

"I  entertain  frequently.  Papa  likes  to  have 
people  coming  and  going.  Besides,  I  go  out  a 
great  deal  just  now." 

"Is  that  all  you  do?" 

"  I  am  on  several  committees,"  said  Milly.  "  I 
am  patroness  of  all  sorts  of  enterprises.  Every- 
body knows  that  I  am  willing  to  give  to  any  wor- 
thy philanthropic  scheme.  Indeed,  Mr.  Venn 
would  tell  you  that  I  give  far  too  much.  But,  with 
my  income  to  dispose  of,  what  could  I  conscien- 
tiously do  except  give  ?  If  you  saw  the  entreat- 
ing letters  I  have  every  day  !  But  I  dare  say  you 
receive  twice  as  many." 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  said  Dr.  Pardee.  "  I  hope 
you  don't  flatter  yourself  that  you  are  gaining 
heaven  by  giving  of  your  superfluity  to  rich  or 
poor." 

"  No."     She  looked  at  her  uncle. 

"  Emily,"  said  he,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  has  your 
money  ever  brought  you  happiness?  Has  it  ever 
bought  what  you  wanted  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  One  cannot  buy  happi- 
ness," she  said  with  some  uneasiness.  "  Why  do 
you  ask  such  a  question  ?  " 


178  CIPHERS. 

"  I  dare  say  you  have  probably  found  as  I  do," 
he  proceeded,  with  a  little  nod,  "  that  your  money 
hinders  your  chance  of  happiness  rather  than  adds 
to  it.  It  is  easier,  I  tell  you,  Emily,  for  a  camel 
to  pass  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich 
man  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  I  am  sixty- 
three  years  old.  I  have  not  long  to  live,  all  the 
doctors  tell  me.  I  cannot  now  begin  and  live  my 
life  over  again,  but  if  I  had  the  chance  I  would 
give  away  all  I  possess  and  struggle  along  shoul- 
der to  shoulder  with  struggling  men." 

She  looked  at  him  with  bright-eyed  surprise. 

"  I  say  that  it  is  more  easy  for  a  camel  to  pass 
through  the  needle's  eye  than  for  a  rich  man  to 
enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  he  went  on;  "but 
by  heaven  I  mean  the  happiness  of  this  world,  for 
which  we  all  experience  an  infinite  longing.  I 
have  never  been  happy.  For  a  time  I  deceived 
myself  with  sanguine  illusions.  At  college  I  flat- 
tered myself  for  a  year  I  was  a  favorite,  then  dis- 
covered I  was  the  jest  of  the  class.  They  called 
me  '  Money-bags  '  and  *  Bottles.'  Still,  I  believed 
I  had  one  friend.  In  vacations  I  took  him  to  my 
father's,  or  to  Europe,  or  to  the  Rockies.  I  loved 
him.  I  trusted  him  to  the  core.  "Well,  one  day  I 
overheard  him  talking  about  his  '  money-bag,'  and 
remarking  that  he  took  the  goods  the  gods  pro- 
vided, and  never  shook  his  bottle  to  get  at  the 
dregs.  After  that  I  was  very  lonely  at  college.  I 
had  not  been  sent  for  the  sake  of  study,  and  no- 
body seemed  to  consider  it  worth  while  to  help 


CIPHERS.  179 

me  to  study.  It  was  taken  for  granted  that  with 
all  the  Pardee  money  I  was  indifferent  to  books. 
Not  until  years  later  did  I  compreLend  how  I  had 
thrown  away,  or  rather  been  encouraged  to  throw 
away,  my  best  chance  of  happiness.  My  father 
wished  me  to  take  a  degree  in  medicine  in  order, 
like  himself,  to  be  Dr.  Pardee.  I  hated  the  pro- 
fession, shirked  all  I  could,  and  the  moment  I  had 
my  diploma  I  dropped  all  pertaining  to  it.  You 
see,  Emily,  not  having  my  own  livelihood  to  make, 
my  faculties  were  never  gauged,  my  ideas  never 
sharpened,  my  wits  never  stirred.  The  excite- 
ment, the  competition,  the  charm  of  life,  was  re- 
served for  those  who  had  something  to  compete 
for.  I  married  very  early,  —  that  was  another 
mistake.  I  was  married  for  my  money,  and  my 
money  and  what  it  bought  perfectly  satisfied  my 
wife.  She  died  in  a  few  years,  and  her  child  died. 
That  was  a  sorrow  I  have  never  got  over,  but  I 
have  never  run  the  risk  of  making  another  mistake. 
Little  by  little  I  found  out  what  was  in  me.  A 
man  must  do  his  business  in  the  world,  and  grad- 
ually I  found  it  worth  while  to  live  without  dis- 
order in  my  affairs,  and  help  others  to  avoid  dis- 
order. Very  likely  in  some  ways  I  have  even  done 
good.  In  a  material  way  the  village  seems  to  be 
prospering.  Every  year  I  give  large  amounts  to  all 
sorts  of  charities,  —  in  some  instances,  I  confess, 
with  the  feeling  that  my  money  goes  to  support  in- 
stitutions and  people  I  am  not  in  sympathy  with." 
Milly,  listening,  experienced  a  dismay  she  could 


180  CIPHERS. 

not  trace  to  any  adequate  cause.  "  You  have  en- 
joyed travel,"  she  murmured ;  "  you  are  an  inde- 
fatigable reader  of  all  sorts  of  books." 

*'  I  have  traveled  everywhere,  and  with  interest 
and  curiosity ;  and  I  have  read  with  interest  and 
curiosity,  but  never  with  any  consciousness  of 
actually  belonging  to  the  real  world  of  work, 
of  ideas,  of  achievements,  of  keen  sympathies 
applied  to  what  is  essential  and  vital  in  existence. 
I  take  it,  a  man  only  gets  what  he  has  earned  in 
life  ;  now  I  have  earned  nothing.  I  sometimes  say, 
'  There  are  two  ways  of  getting  money,  earning 
and  stealing ;  and  certainly  I  have  earned  no 
penny.  Thus,  I  suffer  from  the  conviction  that 
nothing  honestly  belongs  to  me,  that  I  owe  it  all. 
Only  how  to  pay  my  debt !  " 

Milly  had  stared  at  her  uncle,  growing  all  the 
time  paler.  Now  when  he  paused  she  started  up 
and  crossed  the  room,  her  chin  raised  and  her  two 
hands  clasping  her  throat. 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  become  morbid,"  she 
said,  standing  at  a  distance  and  looking  at  him. 
"You  ought  to  have  said  to  yourself,  'There  is 
happiness  in  the  world,  and  I  will  be  happy.'  " 

The  flicker  of  a  smile  crossed  his  face.  "  You 
have  said  that  to  yourself,"  he  observed. 

"Yes.  Why  should  I  not  be  happy,  uncle 
George  ?  " 

"  You  just  told  me  you  had  not  been  happy." 

"  I  am  still  young,  only  twenty-seven.  Surely, 
at  my  age,  one  can  afford  to  have  made  a  mistake 
or  two  and  still  have  time  to  be  happy." 


CIPHERS.  181 

"I  never  felt  quite  sure,"  said  Dr.  Pardee, 
"  whether  your  marriage  was  or  was  not  an  abso- 
lute mistake,  Emily." 

"If  I  were  to  begin  over  again,"  said  Milly 
earnestly,  "  I  doubt  if  I  should  alter  it.  It  was, 
after  all,  an  experience.  I  might  have  made  a 
commonplace  marriage  and  have  had  a  common- 
place happiness;  but  I  married  Lee  Childe,  that 
is,  his  mother  made  him  marry  me,  for  the  sake  of 
my  money." 

"  It  runs  in  the  blood,  or  with  the  Pardee 
money." 

"  But  I  was  in  love  with  Lee,  that  is,  as  a  very 
young  girl  is  in  love,"  said  Milly.  "  He  was  very 
handsome,  very  elegant,  and  had  a  way  of  uttering 
little  rankling  flatteries  and  smiling  down  at  me. 
One  day  he  told  me  I  must  marry  him,  and  it  was 
exactly  as  if  heaven  had  opened.  You  see,  uncle 
George,  I  have  had  my  little  romance,  after  all. 
We  were  married  very  soon  after  the  engagement 
was  made.  I  soon  found  out  that  he  regarded  me 
as  a  crude,  ill-formed  girl,  whom  he  trusted  to  his 
mother  to  be  trained  into  something  presentable. 
Uncle  George,  I  could  not  begin  to  tell  you  what 
I  went  through,  the  first  year  of  my  marriage.  I 
felt  he  did  not  love  me,  was  contemptuous  of  me. 
My  feelings  were  wound  up  to  a  pitch  of  acute 
agony  by  my  continual  strife  with  myself.  I 
seemed  to  be  the  sport  of  awkward  accident,  of 
imbecility,  of  ill-luck.  I  made  mistakes  over 
which  my  cheeks  still  burn  when  I  recall  them. 


182  CIPHERS. 

I  knew  that  I  was  a  laughing-stock,  that  Lee  hated 
to  go  out  with  me  lest  I  should  commit  some 
betise,  that  I  continually  jarred  upon  him  like  a 
false  note  in  music.  However,  I  grew  older  every 
day,  and  was  not  so  dull  that  I  could  not  improve. 
Mrs.  Childe  died,  and  Lee  soon  became  miserably 
ill.  If  he  could  have  trusted  me  to  nurse  him  it 
would  have  been  a  sort  of  happiness ;  but  no,  he 
had  a  man,  Teddo,  who  knew  exactly  how  to 
please  him.  I  could  do  nothing  except  sit  with 
folded  hands." 

"That  is  another  penalty  of  being  rich.  It 
separates  you  from  those  you  love ;  hired  service 
is  more  skillful,"  said  Dr.  Pardee. 

"  For  months  and  months  after  he  died,"  Milly 
went  on  with  shining  eyes,  "  I  was  the  unhappiest 
creature  in  the  world.  If  I  could  have  had  one 
frank,  loving  pressure  of  the  hand  to  remember,  I 
should  not  have  been  plunged  into  such  utter  chaos. 
It  was  papa  who  finally  gave  me  comfort.  He  told 
me  that  Lee  had  once  said  to  him,  '  Milly  is  the 
sweetest  woman  in  the  world.  It  has  never 
crossed  her  mind  that  we  have  all  lived  on  her 
money.  I  should  like  to  have  her  understand 
that  I  have  appreciated  her ;  that  if  I  have 
seemed  cold  and  ungrateful  it  is  because  I  have 
been  a  sick  man,  and  that  a  sick  man  has  to 
seem  a  heartless  man  because  he  has  no  strength 
to  spend  on  emotion.'  Uncle  George,  if  I  have 
said  that  once  to  myself,  I  have  said  it  ten 
thousand  times.  I  have  pressed  it  to  my  heart 
as  a  Catholic  presses  a  crucifix." 


CIPHERS.  183 

"  A  poor  reward.     He  was  a  selfish  man." 

"  It  was  his  training.  His  mother  had  brought 
him  up  to  feel  that  the  world  existed  for  him. 
After  I  knew  that  after  all  he  had  had  a  regard 
for  me,  the  sting  went  out  of  my  grief.  It  became 
an  appreciable  fact,  —  partly  perhaps  from  under- 
standing papa,  —  that  there  was  a  sort  of  cynicism 
in  the  blood,  —  that  for  generations  the  family 
had  lived  so  far  from  deep  emotions  they  abhorred 
the  idea  of  strong  feeling.  Perhaps,  as  you  say, 
they  had  been  too  rich,  and  had  lost  the  kingdom 
of  heaven." 

"Now  you  have  got  over  your  grief  for  your 
husband  ?  " 

She  flushed  slightly.  "It  is  almost  five  years 
since  he  died,"  she  faltered,  as  if  deprecating  his 
words.  "The  pang  of  it  is  gone.  It  all  seems 
long  ago.  I  did  all  he  would  let  me  do,  but  of 
course  he  never  really  cared  for  me." 

"  No  doubt  you  have  offers.  I  wonder  if  you 
will  marry  again." 

"  If  I  ever  do  marry,"  said  Milly  eagerly,  "  it 
will  be  because  "  —  The  impulse  carried  her  so 
far,  then  she  blushed  and  broke  off. 

"  Because  you  are  in  love  ?  " 

"  That  is  only  a  part  of  it.  Indeed,  I  mistrust 
myself.  I  have  always  been  so  hungry  for  some- 
body to  love,  somebody  to  spend  myself  for." 
She  laughed  as  she  spoke;  she  had  regained  her 
self-command. 

"  You  want  a  man  to  be  ardently  in  love  with 


184  CIPHERS. 

you,"  said  Dr.  Pardee  with  conviction.  "  It  will 
not  be  easy  to  prove  his  disinterestedness.  Easy 
enough  to  love  a  pretty  woman  with  your  in- 
come." 

"I  shall  know,"  said  Milly.  "I  have  been 
married  once  for  my  money.  I  have  had  the 
experience." 

"  I  warn  you  to  beware  of  expecting  miracles. 
The  safest  thing  to  do  is  to  marry  a  man  of  equal 
means,  who  asks  nothing  from  you." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  think  I  care  about  being 
happy,"  said  Milly,  with  a  little  soft  petulance. 
"Unless  I  were  sure  of  being  happy  I  should 
never  think  of  marrying  at  all." 

"Emily,"  said  Dr.  Pardee,  taking  her  hand 
and  drawing  her  towards  him,  "  there  is  some- 
body." 

She  laughed,  blushed,  but  did  not  deny  it. 

"I  warn  you,"  said  he,  "that  it  is  more  easy 
for  a  camel  to  pass  through  a  needle's  eye 
than  for  a  rich  woman  to  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven." 

He  took  his  leave ;  and  after  he  had  gone,  Milly 
reflected  upon  all  he  had  said,  his  premonition  of 
his  own  end,  his  careful  arrangements  for  herself. 
The  intimations  he  had  given .  of  his  own  life, 
thwarted  and  defeated  in  its  personal  hopes, 
weighed  upon  her.  She  could  combat  his  views, 
yet  there  was  a  voice,  and  a  persuasive  voice, 
in  this  solemn  reiteration  of  the  text  of  his 
sermon  to  her;  still,  she  knew  that  there  was  a 


CIPHERS.  185 

fallacy  in  all  he  had  uttered,  for  she  was  going  to 
be  happy. 

"It  was  all  chance,"  she  said  to  herself.  She 
had  seen  Sidney  Breck,  and  everything  had 
altered  in  values.  So  far,  she  had  contented 
herself  with  planning  Breck's  future,  —  a  future 
in  which  she  had  no  visible  place.  At  times  she 
dreamed  of  his  turning  back  to  his  beloved  art, 
and  of  her  telling  him  to  devote  all  his  powers  to 
becoming  a  painter.  Again,  it  seemed  to  her 
that,  with  his  strongly  diversified  tastes,  he  ought 
to  become  a  real  connoisseur  and  make  a  great 
collection  of  pictures.  Always,  when  she  planned 
and  plotted,  her  joy  was  in  giving,  —  in  giving  on 
her  knees.  He  had  touched  her;  she  liked  him. 
The  farthest  she  had  gone  in  her  deepest  soul  had 
been  once  to  say  to  herself,  "He  loves  me!"  That 
had  happened  on  an  occasion  when  she  had  asked 

him  to  meet  her  at  X 's  art  rooms  and  give 

her  his  views  on  a  picture  of  Daubigny's  which 
she  thought  of  buying.  It  was  a  day  of  furious 
wind  and  rain,  and  when  she  left  her  carriage  the 
man  who  held  the  umbrella  over  her  had  splashed 
her  long  cloak  with  mud.  She  was  indifferent, 
but  Breck,  advancing  to  the  door  to  meet  her  as 
she  entered,  gave  a  cry  as  if  some  calamity  had 
overtaken  him. 

"  There  is  mud  on  your  gown,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  she  returned  cheerfully;  "I  have  as 
many  spots  as  Lady  Macbeth." 

Already  he  was  on  his  knees,  scouring  away  at 


186  CIPHERS. 

the  stains,  and  would  not  desist  until  all  signs  of 
the  desecration  were  rubbed  away. 

"There,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction,  and 
smiled  at  her. 

It  was  then  she  had  said  to  herself,  "  He  loves 
me!"  —  a  woman's  test,  a  Woman's  subtle  intu- 
ition. It  gave  her  unspeakable  content ;  yet  she 
had  never  said  in  return,  "  I  love  him !  "  It  was 
only  that  she  liked  him.  She  enjoyed  his  talk, 
not  that  she  considered  him  especially  clever,  but 
that  he  seemed  to  her  fresh  and  real,  that  he  gave 
frankly  the  actual  outcome  of  his  mind  and  heart. 
She  was  never  tired  of  watching  his  face,  and  was 
charmed  by  an  expression  she  found  there  at 
times,  like  that  of  a  delightful  little  boy  half- 
astonished  at  things.  It  would  be  something  to 
live  for,  to  set  him  free  to  follow  his  own  bent,  to 
give  all  his  powers  and  faculties  free  play. 

By  this  time  a  full  fortnight  had  passed  since 
Breck  had  dined  with  her  the  evening  before  the 
ball,  and  she  had  not  seen  him.  He  had  perhaps 
been  out  of  town ;  he  had  once  spoken  of  going 
to  Washington.  After  a  week  she  had  sent  him 
this  little  note :  — 

DEAR   MR.  BRECK,  —  Where   are   my  plans  ? 
Am  I,  after  all,  to  have  no  chateau  en  Espagne  ? 
Yours,  MILLY  CHILDE. 

To  which  he  replied :  — 

DEAR  MRS.  CHILDE,  —  It  was  all  in  the  air. 


CIPHERS.  187 

I  am  making  it  over  on  new  foundations,   and 
will  bring  it  soon.     Respectfully  yours, 

SIDNEY  BRECK. 

Still  he  did  not  come,  and  by  the  end  of  this 
blank  fortnight  she  began  to  grow  restless.  She 
recalled  every  incident  of  the  little  dinner  party 
to  which  he  had  found  himself  unexpectedly  in- 
vited. At  the  time  she  had  told  him  to  come  that 
Monday  evening,  she  had  forgotten  the  engage- 
ment. When  it  was  recalled  to  her  mind,  she  had 
half  decided  to  send  a  line  explaining  that  Mrs. 
Fletcher,  Miss  Hurst,  and  Mr.  Norreys  were 
coming  to  dinner,  and  afterwards  they  all  had  to 
go  on  to  the  first  ball  of  the  season.  Now  she 
was  ready  to  confess  to  the  foolish  feminine  vanity 
which  had  kept  her  from  warning  him  he  was  not 
to  be  the  only  guest.  She  had  hoped  he  would 
consider  it  a  piquant  surprise  to  come  upon  her  in 
that  splendid  gown.  Instead  of  being  charmed, 
he  had  perhaps  been  wounded.  She  could  remem- 
ber that  he  had  scarcely  looked  at  her,  and  that 
when  she  did  once  or  twice  meet  his  eyes  they 
wore  a  dazzled  expression.  Yet  how  well  he  had 
talked!  What  spirits  he  had  been  in!  With 
what  fun  and  good  humor  he  had  rallied  Whiley 
Norreys !  At  the  time  she  had  felt  grateful  to 
him  for  the  self-restraint  which  made  him  talk  to 
every  one  rather  than  to  herself.  Now  she  began 
to  readjust  her  impressions  according  to  the  new 
light  thrown  by  his  long  silence  and  absence. 


188  CIPHERS. 

She  could  not  believe  that  he  had  been  affronted, 
but  in  some  way  his  pride  had  been  hurt.  He 
was  diffident  and  modest,  and  perhaps  that  very 
gown  she  had  longed  to  have  him  admire,  with 
its  cloth  of  silver  and  its  girdle  and  clasps  of 
jewels,  had  separated  them. 

The  new  year  had  passed  in  this  interval,  and 
she  had  sent  him  a  present ;  then,  when  no  answer 
came,  she  finally  dispatched  this  note :  — 

DEAR  MR.  BRECK,  —  Will  you  dine  quietly 
with  papa  and  myself,  —  nobody  else,  —  at  seven 
to-night.  Please  send  word,  "  yes  "  or  "  no,"  by 
messenger.  MILLY  CHILDE. 

The  one  word  "  Yes  "  came,  and  Milly's  spirits 
rose. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Breck  is  coming  to 
dinner." 

"  I  thought  you  were  dining  out." 

"I  had  three  engagements  for  to-night,  but  I 
have  thrown  them  all  over.  I  cannot  please  every- 
body and  Milly  Childe  into  the  bargain,  so  I 
decided  for  once  to  please  Milly  Childe." 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  said  Mr.  Childe  with  an  air 
of  having  reached  the  ultimate  secret  of  things, 
"  that  is  the  safest  way.  If  you  please  yourself, 
somebody  at  any  rate  is  certain  to  be  pleased. 
My  wife  used  to  proclaim  the  fact  that  she  only 
lived  for  others,  —  never  seemed  to  have  reflected 
how  superfluous  the  effort  was." 


CIPHERS.  189 

"  Papa,"  said  Milly,  "  I  wonder  you  never 
thought  of  marrying  again." 

He  gazed  at  her  blankly. 

"  Now,  do  you  actually  suppose  I  am  that  sort 
of  person  ?  " 

"  But,  why  not  ?  There  is  somebody  you  are 
always  dying  to  see,  and  who  is  always  rejoiced 
to  see  you ;  to  whom  you  talk  endlessly,  yet  have 
to  leave  off  with  the  half  unsaid ;  who  invariably 
puts  you  in  good  spirits ;  with  whom  you  enjoy, 
so  to  speak,  the  whole  of  yourself,  not  a  mere 
fraction." 

"  Good  heavens !  "  said  Mr.  Childe,  with  an  air 
as  if  at  his  wits'  end,  "  I  can't  think  what  you  are 
driving  at.  Whom  do  you  mean? " 

"  Whom  do  I  mean  ?  Why,  cousin  Agnes 
Fletcher,  of  course." 

*'  Agnes  Fletcher !  Why,  yes ;  I  see."  Mr. 
Childe  had  started  up  in  his  perplexity,  but  now, 
as  the  air  of  shock  and  alarm  passed  off  his 
face,  he  sat  down,  and  his  delicately  chiseled  fea- 
tures relaxed  into  a  peculiai-ly  genial  expression. 
"  Agnes  Fletcher !  why,  of  course,"  he  murmured 
and  smiled,  —  a  gradually  broadening  smile, — 
while  he  told  off  the  points  of  Milly's  riddle  on 
his  fingers:  "Somebody  I  am  always  dying  to 
see ;  who  is  always  dying  to  see  me ;  somebody  I 
am  never  tired  of  talking  to  ;  who  puts  me  in 
good  spirits.  No  doubt,  Milly,  that  is  all  true; 
but "  — 

"We  all  know  what  such  affinities   lead  to," 


190  CIPHERS. 

interrupted  Milly  saucily.  "  As  I  said  before, 
papa,  why  don't  you  " 

He  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  sudden 
depression. 

"My  personal  experience  of  matrimony  does 
not  exactly  harmonize  with  your  hypothesis,"  he 
said  mournfully.  "  It  sounds  all  right,  —  some- 
body who  is  always  dying  to  see  me,  never  tired 
of  listening  to  me,  puts  me  in  good  humor. 
But  I  have  been  married  once,  and  that  descrip- 
tion does  not  seem  to  fit  my  first  wife  at  all." 

"  They  say,  you  know,  that  a  second  marriage  is 
the  triumph  of  hope  over  experience,"  suggested 
Milly. 

"  Do  they,  though  ?  "  said  Mr.  Childe,  brighten- 
ing. "  That  is  neat,  remarkably  neat,  — '  the  tri- 
umph of  hope  over  experience.'  It  seems  to  me  I 
never  heard  an  epigrammatic  saying  which  was  so 
absolutely  veracious.  '  The  triumph  of  hope  over 
experience ! '  It  is  really  astonishing  how  clever 
some  people  are."  He  chuckled.  It  was  evident 
to  Milly  that  the  pebble  she  had  thrown  had  not 
sunk  into  the  deep  ocean  without  raising  ever- 
widening  circles  of  ripples.  "  You  don't  consider 
me  too  old  ?  "  he  asked  after  a  time,  in  a  stiff, 
reluctant  tone. 

"  No,  indeed ;  and  I  am  sure  cousin  Agnes 
does  not." 

"  She  is  not  so  very  much  younger  herself,"  he 
observed,  and  added,  "Certainly,  at  her  age  she 
can  have  no  great  expectations." 


CIPHERS.  191 

Milly  trod  on  air  that  day.  She  liked  to  feel 
that  she  could  shape  events  and  alter  people's 
destinies  to  their  advantage.  This  feeling  of  ela- 
tion had  not  left  her  when  Sidney  Breck  entered 
at  seven  o'clock. 

"  You  have  been  ill,"  she  said,  the  moment  she 
glanced  at  him. 

"Not  quite  well.  They  tell  me  I  have  been 
working  too  hard,  but  I  fancy  it  all  came  from 
a  slight  cold,"  he  replied. 

His  face  had  given  her  a  feeling  of  alarm.  He 
seemed  wholly  to  have  lost  his  habitual  glow  of 
youthful  color :  the  orbits  of  his  eyes  looked 
larger.  Even  Mr.  Childe,  who  was  still  in  the 
clutches  of  a  new  and  absorbing  idea,  was  struck 
by  the  startling  delicacy  of  the  young  face. 

"  Better  look  out,"  he  observed ;  "  I  have  no 
doubt  it  all  comes  from  these  infernally  over- 
heated modern  houses.  Half  the  young  men  in 
New  York  die  of  pneumonia." 

At  table  Breck  spoke  little,  but  smiled  as  Milly 
and  her  father-in-law  talked,  turning  his  face  first 
towards  one  and  then  towards  the  other,  as  if 
deeply  interested.  Yet,  although  he  seemed  thus 
to  listen,  Milly  felt  as  if  actually  he  was  not 
listening,  but  was  preoccupied  and  mentally  far 
beyond  reach  of  the  subjects  discussed.  She  did 
not  recognize  the  expression  in  his  face.  Hitherto, 
he  had  looked  at  her  with  a  sort  of  eager  humil- 
ity; she  had  seemed  to  read  in  his  eyes,  "Do 
what  you  will  with  me.  I  love  to  do  your  bid- 


192  CIPHERS. 

ding."  The  same  self-surrender  was  not  in  his 
eyes  to-night,  nor  did  any  glow  come  into  his  face 
as  he  spoke  to  her.  He  maintained  a  simple, 
serious  demeanor  which  suggested  a  poise  of  mind 
which  no  trivial  force  could  alter.  She  was  jeal- 
ous of  this  new  strength  of  dignity.  Twice,  when 
the  butler  put  some  question  as  to  his  choice  of 
wines,  Breck  seemed  impatient,  waved  his  hand, 
and  looked  absolutely  haughty  and  unapproach- 
able ;  but  never  before  had  he  seemed  to  Milly  so 
admirable.  She  was  radiant  with  joy  at  seeing 
him  once  more ;  she  talked  incessantly,  and  if  her 
words  brought  the  faintest  smile  to  his  lips  she 
was  triumphant.  As  she  left  the  two  men  at  table 
she  smiled  and  nodded  at  Breck,  who  rose  cere- 
moniously and  followed  her  to  the  door,  without 
speaking.  When  he  came  back  to  the  table  he 
seemed  to  feel  the  absence  of  some  stimulant ;  he 
leaned  his  head  against  the  high  back  of  the 
chair,  closed  his  eyes,  and  once  or  twice  passed  his 
hand  over  his  forehead  as  if  to  press  away  some 
importunate  thought. 

"Do  take  some  Madeira,"  said  Mr.  Childe, 
after  waiting  for  a  few  moments. 

"  No,  thanks." 

"  Have  a  cigar,  at  least." 

"Not  to-night." 

"  Then  perhaps  you  had  rather  go  and  find  Mrs. 
Childe." 

"  I  have  something  to  show  her,"  said  Breck, 
rising.  "  If  you  will  excuse  me  I  will  go  into  the 
parlor." 


CIPHERS.  193 

"  That  fellow  seems  to  be  talking  in  his  sleep. 
If  he  had  drunk  anything  I  should  decide  it  had 
gone  to  his  head.  Perhaps  it  is  Milly  instead," 
said  Mr.  Childe  to  himself,  left  alone  and  preparing 
to  take  a  little  nap. 

Breck  found  Milly  standing  before  the  fire  in 
the  rear  drawing-room.  As  she  heard  his  step  she 
turned  ;  there  was  a  tremulous  expression  on  her 
face. 

"  So  you  left  papa  to  smoke  his  cigar  alone," 
she  said,  almost  with  timidity. 

"  I  wished  to  speak  to  you." 

"About  the  plans?" 

"  About  the  plans,  but  also "  —  He  paused, 
and  as  she  met  his  glance  her  heart  began  to  beat 
violently. 

"I  have  not  yet  thanked  you  for  the  etchings 
you  sent,"  he  said. 

"  Did  you  like  them  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly.  "  I 
remembered  what  you  said  about  the  rarity  of  good 
architectural  etchings,  and  these  seemed  to  me  ex- 
cellent." 

"  Admirable,  yes,  but "  — 

"  But  what  ?  "  They  stood  looking  at  each  other 
as  if  defiant. 

"  I  do  not  feel  justified  in  accepting  them,"  he 
said,  dropping  his  words  as  if  they  came  by  a 
painful  effort.  "  I  happen  to  know  the  cost  of 
such  things  "  — 

"  The  cost  of  such  things  ? "  she  broke  in. 
"  What  does  it  matter  ?  I  liked  the  etchings,  —  I 


194  CIPHERS. 

thought  you  might  like  them.  I  ventured  to  hope 
they  might  even  be  serviceable  to  you.  Yet  you 
talk  about  cost.  Oh,  Mr.  Breck !  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  something  in  his  look 
and  attitude  suggestive  of  pride  and  reluctance 
seemed  more  and  more  to  excite  her.  Her  eyes  di- 
lated as  they  searched  his  face.  Her  hands  clasped 
and  unclasped. 

"  I  thought  we  were  friends,"  she  cried. 

Her  tone  smote  him.  "  Oh,  Mrs.  Childe !  "  he 
said  with  a  deprecatory  gesture. 

"  And  if  we  are  friends,"  she  went  on  almost 
passionately,  "  what  does  it  matter  ?  I  happen  to 
be  rich,  so  rich  that  the  cost  of  tilings  scarcely 
counts  if  I  wish  to  buy  them.  Now  if  I  happened 
to  be  poor  and  it  were  you  who  were  rich,  Mr. 
Breck,  how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  have  you  give 
me  presents." 

"  But  I  am  not  rich,"  said  Breck,  not  altering 
his  simple,  serious  manner ;  "  and  it  is  not  1  who 
have  it  in  my  power  to  give.  And  since  I  cannot 
give  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  receive." 

She  gazed  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  I  have  offended  you,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  know 
not  how,  —  perhaps  it  may  be  best  not  even  to  ask 
what  I  have  done,  simply  to  beg  you  to  forgive 
me.  Believe  me,  Mr.  Breck,  nothing  could  be  fur- 
ther from  my  wish  than  to  displease  you  in  any 
way." 

She  said  this  breathlessly ;  he  could  see  tears  in 
her  eyes. 


CIPHERS.  195 

"  How  could  you  offend  me  ?  "  he  muttered.  He 
half  turned  away  as  if  the  ordeal  was  too  severe. 
"Oh,  Mrs.  Childe,"  he  said,  his  voice  trembling, 
"  I  ought  not  to  be  here.  I  ought  never  to  have 
come." 

"  Yes,  I  have  offended  you,"  she  went  on  as  if 
he  had  not  spoken.  "I  cannot  but  think  some- 
thing happened  the  night  you  dined  here  with 
those  people.  You  see,  Mr.  Breck,  when  I  spoke 
to  you  about  coming  I  forgot  the  engagement.  It 
was  all  so  little  to  me.  Perhaps  finding  me  sur- 
rounded and  occupied  you  said  to  yourself  that  I 
was  capricious.  But  I  am  not  capricious." 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  you  are  capricious,"  he  re- 
plied ;  but  he  had  turned  away,  and  she  could  not 
see  his  face. 

"What  is  it  then?" 

"  It  is,"  he  burst  out  almost  fiercely,  "  that  our 
paths  are  wide  apart.  You  have  no  need  of  me, 
and  I  have  no  right  to  intrude  upon  you.  You 
called  me  your  friend,  but  how  can  a  man  in  my 
position  be  your  friend  ?  " 

For  a  few  moments  she  had  felt  troubled,  almost 
overwhelmed ;  now  she  experienced  an  exquisite 
sense  of  relief. 

"  How  can  a  man  in  your  position  be  my  friend  ?  " 
she  repeated  very  softly.  "  I  might  affect  to  mis- 
understand you.  I  might  say  that  you  probably 
considered  yourself  too  clever  and  too  usefully  em- 
ployed to  waste  time  on  a  frivolous  woman  like 
myself.  But  that  is  not  what  you  meant.  There 


196  CIPHERS. 

is,  instead,  some  idea  in  your  mind  that  as  a  rich 
woman  I  enjoy  some  especial  prerogatives.  But 
tell  ine  who  are  to  be  my  friends  ?  Those  whom  I 
enjoy,  delight  in,  whose  words  I  repeat  over  and 
over  to  myself,  whose  visits  I  look  forward  to,  who 
give  charm  and  stimulus  to  all  they  share  with 
me,  or  the  idle  people  I  meet  ?  Do  you  consider 
me  so  dull  that  I  prefer  those  who  do  nothing, 
who  can  do  nothing  ?  Society  is  interesting,  I  sup- 
pose, to  those  ambitious  to  get  on  in  it,  to  those 
bom  in  it,  but  if  you  think  I  care  for  society  you 
have  no  idea  of  the  woman  I  am.  I  love  the 
thought,  the  ideas,  of  the  real  world.  I  love  na- 
ture, I  love  art,  and  these  people  who  live  on  the 
surface  of  things  simply  cramp  and  weary  me. 
With  you  it  has  been  so  different,  Mr.  Breck,  for 
with  you  I  am  myself.  You  have  powers,  and  you 
know  how  to  use  them ;  you  are  honest,  you  are 
filled  with  love  for  the  best  things  in  the  world. 
Am  I  saying  too  much  ?  But  I  feel  as  if  I  had  to 
defend  myself  against  some  accusation.  I  suspect 
that  somebody  has  been  telling  you  evil  things  of 
me,  —  perhaps  that  I  am  a  coquette.  I  am  not  a 
coquette,  —  at  least,  if  I  am  ever  a  coquette  it  is 
only  in  self-defense.  I  am  not,  —  I  shall  never  be 
a  coquette  with  you.  I  want  you  to  understand 
that." 

Her  voice  failed  her.  He  was  impelled  to  turn, 
although  he  had  not  looked  at  her  as  she  poured 
out  this  tumultuous  rush  of  words.  She  was 
flushed,  —  all  her  features  were  quivering. 


CIPHERS.  197 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Childe,"  he  began  in  a  tone  of  de- 
spair, but  she  regained  her  voice  and  swept  on  in 
her  defense. 

"  I  spoke  to  you  once  of  my  uncle.  He  was 
here  last  week,  and  one  day  he  was  telling  me 
about  his  spoiled  life.  He  declared  that  his  wealth 
had  given  him  no  happiness,  that  it  had  simply 
robbed  him  of  his  chance  to  use  his  faculties  and 
work  for  the  objects  in  life  he  craves.  He  said  he 
had  had  no  comrades,  no  true  friends ;  that  his 
wife  had  married  him  without  love,  simply  desiring 
his  money  ;  that  in  every  direction,  turn  where  he 
might,  his  wealth  had  stood  between  him  and  the 
actual  world-wide,  world-deep  life  which  poorer 
men  taste  the  pang  and  the  joy  of.  He  warned 
me  that  it  would  be  my  fate,  as  well,  to  find  no  dis- 
interested friendship,  no  disinterested  love,  no 
work  I  could  put  my  hand  to  and  perform  with 
all  my  heart  and  soul.  Again  and  again  he  reit- 
erated that  it  was  more  easy  for  a  camel  to  pass 
through  a  needle's  eye  than  for  a  rich  man  to  en- 
ter the  kingdom  of  heaven.  I  was  ready  then  to 
laugh  at  his  cruel  prophecy.  To-night  I  begin  to 
feel  the  force  of  it,  to  be  stifled  by  it." 

He  caught  her  hands.  Great  tears  were  rolling 
down  her  cheeks.  Her  face  was  irresistibly  mov- 
ing to  him.  For  a  moment  they  looked  at  each 
other  in  silence,  then  bending  down  he  kissed  first 
one  palm  of  hers,  then  the  other,  and  dropped  hia 
hold  upon  her. 

"  I  must  tell  you  something,"  he  said  in  a  husky 


198  CIPHERS. 

voice,  —  "  something  that  has  happened  to  me  in 
these  three  weeks." 

She  shuddered  and  drew  back. 

"  I  am  engaged,  — engaged  to  be  married,"  he 
went  on  in  a  tone  hardly  above  a  whisper.  His 
glance  had  dropped  to  the  floor,  but  he  was  con- 
scious that  she  had  moved  away  and  had  thrown 
herself  into  a  chair  at  some  distance.  "  It  was 
sudden,"  he  went  on,  "  but  after  all,  it  had  been  in 
my  mind  since  I  first  met  her."  He  stopped  a 
moment  and  tried  to  steady  his  voice,  then  re- 
sumed. "  All  at  once  I  felt  as  if  she  needed  to  be 
shielded,  and  I  could  shield  her.  I  —  I "  — 

His  voice  died  away,  the  silence  tortured  him, 
and  his  self  -  contempt  grew.  A  restless  devil 
within  him  had  urged  to  save  himself,  and  he  had 
flung  this  insult  in  the  face  of  the  woman  who  had 
permitted  him  to  penetrate  her  inmost  thoughts. 
But  then  it  was  the  only  alternative  which  could 
save  him  from  falling  at  her  feet,  pressing  his  lips 
to  her  raiment,  telling  her  that  he  had  worshiped 
her  from  the  first  moment  he  met  her,  —  must  al- 
ways worship  her.  His  only  safety  lay  in  blurting 
o:it  the  truth  to  her,  just  as  for  three  weeks  he  had 
kept  himself  in  the  grooves  by  saying  day  by 
day  and  hour  by  hour,  "  I  am  engaged,"  alwa}rs 
with  the  same  recurring  amazement  that  he  had 
made  utter  havoc  with  the  precious  things  of  life, 
and  had  thrown  away  all  he  cared  for. 

The  silence  must  be  ended,  and  he  must  some- 
bow  get  away  from  this  house,  which  he  ought  not 


CIPHERS.  199 

to  have  entered.  He  finally  raised  his  head,  which 
he  had  kept  bowed  in  dreary,  hopeless  self-abase- 
ment. Milly  had  sunk  into  a  chair;  both  arms 
had  fallen  forward  on  the  table,  and  her  head  was 
bent  on  them.  He  uttered  a  groan,  and  advanced 
towards  her.  At  the  sound  she  raised  her  head, 
and  by  an  effort  sat  back  in  her  chair  and  crossed 
her  hands  on  her  lap.  Once  she  opened  her  lips  to 
speak,  but  she  could  not  utter  a  syllable. 

He  was  standing  before  her  with  a  pale,  drawn 
face. 

"  I  wish  —  I  wish  I  could  venture  —  "  he  fal- 
tered. 

A  burning  blush  rose  to  her  temples.  "  Do  not 
say  anything.  I  implore  you  to  say  nothing,"  she 
murmured  almost  inaudibly. 

"  Shall  I  go  away  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Please  do,"  she  said,  with  timid  sweetness,  and 
half  smiling.  "  That  will  be  best." 

He  went  out  at  once.  After  he  had  gone  Milly 
sat  down  cowering  over  the  fire  as  if  shaken  by  a 
chill.  Mr.  Childe  entered,  looked  about,  and  asked 
with  surprise,  — 

"  What !     That  young  fellow  gone  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Milly. 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  him  ?   Was  he  ill  ?  " 

"  He  said  he  was  overworked.  I  dare  say  he 
had  an  engagement." 

Mr.  Childe  sank  into  his  favorite  chair. 

"Milly,"  said  he,  "you  have  put  an  idea  into 
my  head." 


200  CIPHERS. 

She  glanced  at  him  affectionately  and  laughed, 
but  said  nothing.  The  tea-table  was  brought,  and 
Mr.  Childe  drank  the  cup  of  tea  his  daughter-in- 
law  made  him,  all  the  time  ringing  the  changes 
upon  the  new  idea,  which  was  evidently  a  stimu- 
lating one,  with  far-reaching  suggestions.  He  had 
reinforced  his  dwindling  courage  by  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  dash  and  ease  with  which  he  had  made 
love  in  former  days,  and  she  humored  him  by 
not  only  listening  to  his  reminiscences,  but  with 
quick  sympathy  guiding  him  over  the  possible 
difficulties  and  dangers  his  fancy  occasionally  pre- 
sented. She  was  astonished  to  find  herself  talking 
naturally,  with  an  easy  command  of  words.  Once 
she  offered  to  read  aloud,  but  Mr.  Childe  was  too 
much  interested  in  the  next  chapter  of  his  own 
history  to  care  for  the  history  of  less  interesting 
people.  At  eleven  o'clock  the  butler  entered, 
offering  each  a  glass  of  water,  and  seemed  to  sug- 
gest by  his  movements  that  the  evening  was  over. 
Milly  longed  to  stay  below,  but  knew  that  Wilkins 
would  not  go  to  bed  until  he  had  attended  to  fire 
and  lights.  She  offered  her  cheek  to  Mr.  Childe, 
who  for  once  gave  her  a  hearty  caress,  then  went 
upstairs  to  her  own  room.  She  had  dreaded  com- 
ing here ;  in  this  room  she  had  lived  through 
many  a  struggle,  and  she  knew  that  the  hardest 
struggle  of  all  was  before  her. 

She  summarily  dismissed  her  maid,  and  sat  down 
before  the  fire  until  the  door  was  shut  upon  the 
woman,  when,  rising,  she  bolted  herself  in,  and 


CIPHERS.  201 

going  to  the  glass  gazed  upon  the  reflection  she 
found  there. 

"I  have  betrayed  myself,"  she  said  audibly. 
"  Since  the  beginning  of  the  world  no  woman  has 
so  shamelessly  betrayed  herself."  She  turned 
away  and  paced  up  and  down  the  room  a  few 
times;  then,  with  a  motion  and  look  as  if  expe- 
riencing physical  torture,  she  flung  herself  face 
downwards  on  the  lounge,  and  for  a  long  time  re- 
mained motionless.  She  did  not  weep :  a  lethargy 
seemed  to  have  seized  her  emotional  faculties. 
What  she  suffered  from  was  a  weary,  intolerable 
sense  of  the  irony  of  fate.  All  the  evening  she 
had  upheld  herself  by  a  resolution  to  leave  New 
York  on  the  morrow.  The  town  would  be  un- 
bearable. She  could  never  see  Sidney  Breck 
again.  She  remembered  his  expression,  at  first 
haughty  and  resolute,  then  touched  and  frightened. 
...  A  man  in  love  with  another  woman,  —  en- 
gaged to  marry  another  woman,  yet  compelled  to 
listen  to  such  a  confession  as  had  been  poured  out 
to  him  that  night.  Milly  stifled  a  cry  as  the  shame 
of  her  defeat  rankled  anew. 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  candid  ?  Why  should  I 
not  try  to  be  simple  and  human  and  womanly  ? " 
That  was  the  sophistical  plea  which  her  heart  had 
put  forward  when  he  had  confronted  her  with  that 
stubborn  resistance. 

She  saw  herself  in  a  new  light.  She  had  always 
said  that  she  cared  nothing  for  her  wealth,  did  not 
rate  its  advantage  at  a  pin's  fee.  Yet  as  if  she 


202  CIPHERS. 

had  been  the  most  unblushingly  sordid  of  women, 
she  had  counted  with  assurance  upon  buying  the 
young  architect's  services,  his  friendship,  his  love, 
perhaps.  All  the  time  his  ideal  had  been  some- 
thing quite  the  opposite  of  hers.  He  wanted  a 
wife  whom  he  could  protect,  comfort,  sustain.  He 
had  said  it :  "  She  needed  to  be  shielded,  and  I 
could  shield  her." 

Again  Milly  felt  the  scorching  ignominy  of  the 
inarticulate  burning  shame  which  had  consumed 
her  when  Breck  uttered  these  words. 

"And  yet  he  had  sometimes  seemed  to  care 
about  me,"  she  whispered,  clutching  at  some  self- 
justification.  Then,  hopeless,  she  cried  aloud  with 
clear  conviction,  "  No !  nobody  has  ever  loved 
me  !  Nobody  ever  will  love  me ! "  Even  her 
mother's  tenderness  had  been  masked  by  her  anxi- 
eties ;  she  had  dreaded  lest  her  daughter  should 
count  too  assuredly  on  the  happiness  of  this  world 
and  depend  too  little  on  what  descends  from 
above. 

It  was  three  o'clock  before  Milly,  all  at  once 
realizing  that  the  fire  was  low  and  the  room  cold, 
started  up.  Going  to  the  dressing-table  she  turned 
up  the  lights  and  again  looked  at  herself.  She 
was  pale  to  haggardness,  and  heavy  lines  showed 
under  her  eyes  and  about  her  mouth. 

"  I  never  was  pretty,"  she  reflected,  "  and  now 
I  am  old  and  shall  constantly  grow  older.  He  will 
marry  a  young  girl ;  I  dare  say  that  she  is  a  very 
young  girl,  who  is  beautiful  to-day,  and  will  be 


CIPHERS.  203 

more  beautiful  to-morrow,  and  years  and  years 
hence  more  beautiful  still." 

The  thought  of  that  happy  young  girl,  beloved 
and  shielded,  pierced  her  anew.  Tears  rolled 
down  her  cheeks,  but  she  conquered  herself.  "  I 
am  glad  to  have  him  happy,"  she  said,  as  if  sud- 
denly seizing  upon  a  new  hope.  "  I  will  not  be  a 
poor  creature.  I  am  glad  to  have  him  happy." 

She  went  to  bed  and  slept.  Again  and  again, 
when  she  restlessly  turned  and  awoke  with  a  feel- 
ing of  calamity,  she  resolutely  said  this  to  herself, 
and  once  more  slept.  The  intention  not  to  give 
way  was  strong  upon  her  when  she  awoke. 


IX. 

EVEN  if  she  ran  away  from  New  York,  she  said 
to  herself  next  day,  whither  could  she  go  that  this 
spectre  would  not  pursue  her  ?  She  had  lived  of 
late  with  all  the  possibilities  of  her  nature  in  sight. 
There  had  been  an  incessant  thrill  of  some  joy- 
ful, indefinable  feeling,  a  sense  of  something  unex- 
pected about  to  happen.  The  least  event  had  given 
a  stir  to  her  pulse  ;  by  turns  she  had  been  hot  and 
cold ;  a  chance  encounter  had  set  her  blood  tin- 
gling ;  a  reverse  had  frozen  her  heart  like  a  lump 
of  ice.  Existence  had  been  a  desperate  but  a  de- 
lightful effort,  and  these  extremes  and  alternations 
could  be  borne  because  they  showed  her  far-off  vis- 
tas and  reaches  into  regions  hitherto  unexplored. 
It  was  something  at  least  to  have  been  set  free,  — 
to  have  at  last  believed  in  happiness.  She  must 
pay  the  price  without  flinching  and  without  tears. 

She  was  determined  to  look  at  the  facts  of  life 
by  the  clear  light  of  day.  Every  one  called  her  an 
exceptionally  fortunate  woman ;  what  she  consid- 
ered her  limitations  were,  according  to  her  friends 
and  advisers,  the  result  of  her  magnificently  ex- 
panded opportunities.  More  than  once  when  she 
had  personally  attempted  some  philanthropic  ef- 
fort, she  had  drawn  back  with  a  quick  perception 
that  she  simply  impeded  the  efforts  of  others  who 


CIPHERS.  205 

had  better  training  and  tact  for  the  work.  "  Your 
province  is  to  give,  —  to  give  nobly  and  at  the 
right  moment,"  she  was  invariably  told  with  un- 
mistakable emphasis.  Other  women  vaunted  their 
engrossing  occupation  which  never  left  them  a 
spare  moment.  How  could  she  fill  her  own  days  ? 
If  she  were  to  go  on  living  it  was  indispensable 
that  she  should  make  interests  for  herself  which 
offered  color,  variety,  excitement.  No  use  to  try 
to  do  good  to  the  poor  and  the  unhappy  by  her 
presence  ;  her  cheques  were  more  welcome.  What 
she  must  do,  then,  was  to  throw  this  sop  to  Cer- 
berus, and  then  endeavor  to  seize  the  patent  advan- 
tages of  her  own  every-day  life.  Hitherto  she  had 
looked  at  the  world  from  starry  heights ;  perhaps 
this  defeat  had  humanized  her :  she  was  at  least 
tired  of  herself,  and  was  disposed  to  lay  aside  her 
fastidiousness.  She  would  try  to  content  herself 
with  her  own  little  world,  accept  what  was  nearest, 
and  endeavor  to  find  diversion,  as  other  people  do, 
in  whatever  presents  itself,  good,  bad,  or  indiffer- 
ent. There  are  people  who  for  health's  sake  and 
against  natural  inclination  have  been  ordered  to 
drink  strong  liquors,  and  have  ended  by  being 
enslaved  by  the  habit ;  some  desperate  gamblers 
have  related  that  when  first  initiated  into  games 
of  cards  they  found  them  tedious  and  dull.  Per- 
haps by  complaisant  acceptance  of  social  life,  she 
might  end  by  becoming  enamored  of  society  and 
turn  out  a  fashionable  woman. 

She  attended  an  elaborate   luncheon  that  day, 


206  CIPHERS. 

and  later  went  to  the  dra-matic  recital  of  a  famous 
actress.  It  was  the  night  of  one  of  her  own  din- 
ner-parties, and  she  had  invited  a  hundred  or 
more  young  people  to  a  little  dance  afterwards. 
She  did  not  permit  herself  to  measure  the  ordeal. 
Henceforth  she  would  keep  to  the  surface  of  things. 
It  is  a  sad  mistake  for  a  woman  to  take  life  seri- 
ously. "  Let  me  live  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour," 
she  prayed,  "  forgetting  yesterday,  and  not  dream- 
ing of  to-morrow." 

Going  about  wherever  she  was  invited,  it  fell 
out  that  dining  one  night  at  Mrs.  Crooke  Poor- 
shaw's,  she  found  herself  at  table  sitting  between 
Geddes  Poorshaw,  to  whom  she  had  been  allotted 
by  the  hostess,  and  Holly  Ruff.  Only  Milly  her- 
self happened  to  know  that  both  were  her  rejected 
suitors,  but  each  man  was  aware  of  his  own  indis- 
cretion, and  depended  on  the  good  services  of  the 
other  for  her  entertainment.  Poorshaw  rarely 
talked,  even  when  he  had  something  to  say,  and 
how  can  a  man  have  anything  to  say  to  a  woman 
who  has  with  the  promptest  decision  answered  his 
invitation  to  spend  the  remainder  of  her  life  with 
him  in  the  negative  ?  Although  Holly  Ruff's  at- 
tention by  right  belonged  to  Miss  Hurst,  who  was 
on  his  right,  he  threw  himself  into  the  breach 
when  he  observed  Poorshaw's  lack  of  resources. 
Perhaps  Ruff  wished  to  experiment  a  little,  for 
suddenly  changing  his  subject,  he  said,  — 

"  By  the  bye,  Mrs.  Childe,  you  know  my  friend 
Breck,  Sidney  Breck,  the  architect  ?  " 


CIPHERS.  207 

"  Yes,"  said  Milly,  suddenly  alive  to  her  finger- 
ends,  and,  afraid  of  disclosing  the  truth,  she  raised 
her  glass  to  her  lips. 

"  Of  course  he  has  spoken  to  you  of  Miss  Ri- 
vera?" Ruff  pursued. 

"  Miss  Rivera  ? "  Milly  repeated.  Then  per- 
ceiving something  quickened  and  alert  in  Ruff's 
attitude,  she  said,  "  I  suppose  it  must  be  Miss 
Rivera  to  whom  Mr.  Breck  is  engaged.  I  happen 
to  know  that  he  is  engaged." 

"  I  should  be  willing  to  stake  something  that  he 
is  not  engaged  to  Miss  Rivera,"  Poorshaw  made 
haste  to  remark. 

"  Yes,  he  is  engaged  to  Miss  Rivera,"  said  Ruff 
blandly.  "  Music  has  been  the  food  of  love  in 
this  case.  She  is  a  charming  singer,  and  Breck  is 
always  infatuated  about  music." 

"  I  myself  have  the  honor  of  knowing  Miss 
Rivera  quite  well,"  said  Poorshaw,  "  and  I  could 
swear  to  it  that  she  is  not  engaged  to  any  man.  I 
dare  say  Breck  wants  to  marry  her,  but  that  does 
not  establish  his  right  to  do  so.  She  is  a  girl 
likely  to  pick  and  choose." 

"  She  happens  to  be  engaged  all  the  same,"  said 
Ruff. 

Poorshaw  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  made  a 
little  gesture  with  the  air  of  a  man  understanding 
his  subject,  but  who  restrains  his  tongue.  Milly, 
listening,  had  turned  with  smiling  eagerness  first 
to  one,  then  the  other  of  the  two  men,  with  the 
air  of  one  who  sees  a  clear  vista  open  where  all 
was  dark  before. 


208  CIPHERS. 

"  Tell  me  about  this  Miss  Rivera,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Who  is  she  ?  What  is  she  ?  Where 
is  she  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  expect  me  to  repeat  a  happy  lov- 
er's confidences,"  said  Ruff.  "  To  begin  with,  she 
is  adorable,  in  the  second  place  she  is  adorable, 
and  finally  she  is  adorable." 

"A  charming  description,  but  vague,"  said  Milly. 
"  Now,  Mr.  Poorshaw,  can't  you  give  me  something 
more  precise  ?  " 

"A  very  handsome  girl,"  said  Poorshaw,  "  South- 
ern, you  know,  tropical,  —  Creole  blood  in  her 
veins,  —  makes  our  women  look  waxen." 

Milly  seemed  to  see  an  apparition  arise,  but  she 
compelled  herself  to  smile  and  say,  "  And  beside 
all  this  she  sings  !  That  is  almost  too  much." 

"  She  is  poor,"  observed  Poorshaw.  "  She  feels 
compelled  to  be  an  artist  of  some  sort." 

"  Of  some  sort,"  repeated  Ruff  incredulously. 
"  I  am  afraid  it  is  of  some  sort.  She  failed  at  a 
concert.  Breck  wanted  me  to  attend,  but  I  was 
too  busy.  I  asked  Lefferts  about  the  effect  she 
produced,  and  he  said  she  was  stiff  and  amateur- 
ish, —  did  not  know  how  to  let  herself  go." 

"  Contarini  declared  it  was  no  failure,  but  a  suc- 
cess," said  Poorshaw,  looking  haughty. 

*'  I  dare  say  it  was  the  fault  of  the  public  that 
she  did  not  make  a  hit,"  said  Ruff.  "  It  shows 
the  invariable  lack  of  appreciation  shown  by  swine 
for  pearls." 

"  I  don't  myself  consider  that  it  makes  an  atom 


CIPHERS.  209 

of  difference  what  the  public  or  the  critics  say 
about  her,"  said  Poorshaw.  "  Sit  by  her  and  talk 
to  her,  and  you  will  soon  perceive  that  she  was  not 
made  to  be  dependent  on  any  one's  favor." 
.  Milly  had  maintained  a  simple  demeanor,  and 
had  shown  an  obliging  tact  and  ease  with  both 
men,  but  now  was  glad  to  rise  with  the  other 
ladies  and  leave  the  men  at  table.  She  went  on 
at  once  to  a  large  reception  and  later  to  a  dan- 
cing party.  At  the  latter  she  encountered,  among 
others,  Paul  Secor,  who  had  of  late  set  himself  the 
task  of  pleasing  her.  She  was  ready  to  smile  upon 
him  to-night,  for  he  could  at  least  save  her  the  task 
of  entertaining  him.  He  was  an  endless  talker 
when  he  had  a  companion  to  his  liking,  and  she  felt 
strangely  self-absorbed,  having  a  new  idea  to  think 
of  and  a  new  voice  at  her  ear.  She  was  glad  to 
possess  some  clew  to  the  personality  of  Breck's 
fiance'e.  It  is  the  unknown  quantity  which  makes 
us  restless.  She  was  saying  to  herself  that  she 
would  take  an  early  occasion  to  ask  Poorshaw  all 
the  particulars  about  this  girl,  —  beautiful,  poor, 
gifted,  but  not  so  successful  but  that  she  needed  to 
be  shielded.  Milly  seemed  all  at  once  to  divine 
the  whole  meaning  of  the  situation,  and  it  touched 
her. 

Meanwhile,  she  had  sat  down  on  a  sofa  with 
Paul  Secor  under  a  small  forest  of  palms.  He 
had  never  felt  so  much  encouraged  as  to-night, 
for  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  looked  quietly  pleased,  and 
although  it  was  evident  that  her  imagination  was 


210  CIPHERS. 

not  always  sufficiently  active  to  follow  his  far- 
reaching  suggestions,  she  evinced  little  reluctance 
to  listen  to  the  clever  and  audacious  things  he 
uttered,  as  was  his  habit,  no  matter  whether  they 
told  for  or  against  himself.  The  fact  was  that 
Milly  hardly  heard  what  he  was  saying.  The  dis- 
cussion she  had  listened  to  was  still  in  her  ears,  and 
some  of  Poorshaw's  utterances  were  invested  with 
fresh  meanings.  It  was  evident  that  he,  too,  had 
fallen  in  love  with  this  Miss  Rivera,  who  of  course 
loved  Breck.  Although  Geddes  Poorshaw  could 
offer  the  girl  everything, —  as  the  world  calls  every- 
thing, —  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  Milly 
that  any  one  could  halt  in  choice  between  two 
such  suitors.  She  tried  to  think  of  some  plausible 
excuse  for  going  to  see  this  beautiful  young  girl. 
She  might  tell  Miss  Rivera  she  had  heard  of  her 
voice,  —  that  she  was  anxious  to  arrange  some 
musicales  for  Lent.  Geddes  Poorshaw  might  give 
her  a  hint.  Milly  had  the  reputation  of  possessing 
a  wonderful  easy  nonchalance  in  the  way  of  doing 
things  which  other  women  halt  before  as  indiscre- 
tions, and  certainly  she  ought  to  be  able  readily  to 
impose  upon  a  novice. 

Thus,  while  she  was  sitting  beside  Secor,  and  an- 
swering his  tentative  and  daring  speeches  at  ran- 
dom, she  was  actually  taken  up  by  these  schemes. 
There  was  a  charm  in  the  idea  of  helping  to  pro- 
mote Sidney  Breck's  happiness,  —  of  being  always 
his  good  angel.  She  might  never  trust  herself  to 
meet  him  again,  but  her  aching,  passionate  regrets 


CIPHERS.  211 

might  find  some  symbol  of  expression  which  all 
his  life  long  he  would  go  on  accepting,  even  when 
he  only  dimly  remembered  her  face. 

Mr.  Whiley  Norreys,  disregarding  the  monopoly 
Paul  Secor  piqued  himself  upon  having  success- 
fully established,  came  up  and  spoke  to  her,  and 
his  action  broke  the  spell.  For  the  next  hour  she 
was  surrounded,  but  when  she  was  to  leave  the 
house  she  accepted  Paul  Secor's  arm  to  the  car- 
riage. Snow  had  fallen  from  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  until  midnight,  when,  the  wind  veering 
to  the  south,  a  heavy  rain  came,  which,  soften- 
ing the  six  inches  of  snow,  had  made  a  frightful 
slush. 

"  Pleasant  prospect  for  a  poor  devil  who  can't 
afford  his  own  cab,"  said  Se"cor,  standing  under  the 
awning  and  looking  at  Milly,  as  she  bent  forward 
to  the  open  carriage  window  to  say  good-night. 

"  Jump  in,"  she  said  unhesitatingly.  "  I  will 
drop  you  at  your  rooms.  Tell  the  man  where  they 
are." 

Blessing  his  stars,  and  deciding  that  a  propi- 
tious destiny  favored  him  that  night,  Paul  obeyed 
with  a  quick  sense  of  relief.  All  that  evening  he 
had  felt  that  he  was  at  last  beginning  to  make  an 
impression  upon  the  one  woman  in  New  York  he 
cared  to  please.  By  a  sudden  bold  stride  he  had 
advanced  to  the  chief  place  with  her.  It  was 
always  his  habit  to  formulate  his  experience  with 
the  fair  sex.  It  was  the  unexpected,  he  affirmed, 
which  charmed  a  woman.  Women's  lives  are  so 


212  CIPHERS. 

dull,  so  tideless ;  they  like  to  be  carried  over  their 
banks.  Their  horizon  is  so  bounded  by  gray 
monotony,  they  are  ready  to  be  grateful  to  a 
man  who  lifts  it  and  offers  a  fresh  vista.  A 
woman,  he  explained,  never  meets  a  man  without 
confessing  to  herself  at  least  that  it  is  a  toss-up 
whether  she  falls  in  love  with  him  or  not.  All 
these  views,  based  evidently,  not  on  mere  idle 
conjecture,  not  even  on  sentences  out  of  phrase- 
books,  but  on  sound  experience,  probably  dictated 
Paul  Secor's  present  course.  No  sooner  was  he 
established  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  in  the 
small,  luxurious  carriage,  which  was  rolling  down 
the  avenue  as  rapidly  as  was  possible  in  the  deep 
slush,  than,  with  two  words  of  preamble,  he  put 
his  arm  about  his  companion  and  made  an  effort 
to  kiss  her. 

Milly,  in  her  way,  was  also  a  mistress  of  the 
unexpected.  She  pulled  the  string  with  unmis- 
takable imperiousness ;  the  carriage  stopped,  and 
the  man  opened  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Secor  will  get  out,"  she  said  quietly ;  and 
Mr.  Se'cor  accordingly  did  get  out  in  the  middle 
of  Madison  Avenue,  in  the  pouring  rain. 

It  has  always  been  a  question  open  to  discus- 
sion whether  Clive  Newcome  did  or  did  not  kiss 
his  cousin  Ethel  in  the  Brighton  tunnel.  Within 
five  days  after  this  episode,  Paul  Secor's  little 
indiscretion  was  the  gossip  of  the  town,  and  the 
disputed  question  was  what  compensations  sweet- 
ened the  condign  punishment  meted  out  to  him. 


CIPHERS.  213 

One  side  argued  that  a  woman  so  prompt  in  ac- 
tion was  certain  to  have  lost  no  time  ;  but,  then,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  if  she  had  been  successful 
in  defeating  his  intention,  she  hardly  needed  to  be 
so  implacable. 

Another  question  might  have  been,  who  had 
told  the  story?  Nobody  suspected  Mrs.  Lee 
Childe  of  disclosing  the  secret ;  her  servants  were 
models  of  discretion,  while,  as  all  the  world  knew, 
Paul  Se*cor  liked  une  aventure  de  p/ws,  whether  it 
went  crooked  or  smooth  for  him.  But  would  even 
Paul  Secor  let  himself  be  laughed  at  for  a  com- 
plete fiasco  ? 

He  was  a  cousin  on  the  Lee  side  of  the  house, 
while  Archy  Laing's  mother  had  been  a  Childe. 
The  two  clans  always  regarded  each  other  with 
more  or  less  well-concealed  hostility,  yet  it  might 
not  be  an  easy  matter  to  explain  why  Paul  Se*cor's 
presumption  should  have  encouraged  Archy  Laing 
to  come  forward.  He  perhaps  argued  that,  not 
being  so  enterprising  as  Secor,  he  was  in  no  dan- 
ger of  having  his  new  evening  clothes  spoiled; 
but  the  argument  employed  by  his  sister,  Mrs. 
Ferris,  and  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Fletcher,  was  that  no 
moment  could  be  so  auspicious  for  him  to  press 
his  suit  as  this,  when  Milly  Childe's  own  con- 
sciousness must  be  echoing:  what  all  New  York  was 

o 

telling  her,  that  she  was  too  young,  too  attractive, 
and,  above  all,  too  rich  to  go  about  the  world 
without  a  husband  to  protect  her. 

Archy  was  perfectly  willing  to  play  that  role, 


214  CIPHERS. 

his  only  fault  was  that  he  liked  delightful  results 
independent  of  tedious  processes.  He  admired 
Milly,  her  good  looks,  her  chic,  —  above  all,  a  cer- 
tain high-mindedness  of  which  the  tradition  ran  in 
the  family,  substantiated  by  the  fact  that  although 
every  cent  of  her  money  was  so  strictly  tied  up  it 
had  to  go  through  her  hands,  yet  her  first  husband 
had  never  needed  to  be  galled  by  a  feeling  of 
dependence.  A  large  sum  had  been  paid  to  Lee 
Childe's  bankers  quarterly,  and  no  questions  were 
asked  as  to  how  it  was  spent.  There  was  some- 
thing royal  about  such  a  woman,  and  no  doubt  she 
was  lonely  on  her  throne.  Accordingly,  one  Sunday 
night,  after  the  family  party  had  broken  up,  just 
as  Milly  was  taking  a  book,  with  a  sense  of  relief 
at  being  left  alone,  she  looked  up  and  saw  Archy 
in  the  doorway. 

"  So  you  have  come  back,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  not  been  away,  only  across  the  hall," 
said  Archy.  "  I  wanted  to  ask  your  advice,  so 
waited  after  the  rest  were  gone." 

"  I  am  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  come  to 
for  advice,"  said  Milly.  "I  always  make  mis- 
takes in  my  own  affairs,  —  have  a  fatal  facility 
for  blunders." 

"  You  are,  by  all  odds,  the  cleverest  person  in 
the  family,"  said  Archy,  still  hovering,  but  ap- 
proaching closer  and  closer. 

"Not  half  so  clever  as  you,  Archy,"  retorted 
Milly.  "  You  always  get  precisely  what  you  want 
out  of  the  world." 


CIPHERS.  215 

By  this  time  he  had  established  himself  very 
comfortably  on  the  other  side  of  the  table  which 
held  the  reading-lamp.  If  he  had  any  prescience 
that  this  table  might  prove  an  obstacle,  he  rele- 
gated that  question  to  the  future,  for  the  chair 
looked  especially  inviting. 

"  That  is  what  1  should  like  to  do,"  he  said.  "  I 
confess  that  some  few  desirable  things  have  come 
in  my  way  without  much  trouble  on  my  part,  but 
now  that  I  desire  something  very  particular  I 
don't  dare  flatter  myself  it  will  drop  into  my 
mouth  when  I  look  up  and  long  for  it." 

Milly  laid  her  book  on  the  table,  and  glancing 
at  her  visitor  with  a  lazy  smile  and  half-closed 
eyes,  observed :  — 

"You  seem  to  be  talking  about  the  golden 
apples  of  Hesperides." 

The  allusion  to  "  golden  apples  "  tried  his  self- 
possession,  but  he  carried  off  any  embarrassment 
with  a  laugh,  saying :  — 

"  They  always  hang  high,  and  are  guarded  by  a 
dragon,  I  suppose." 

"You  want  my  advice,  perhaps,  as  to  how  to 
kill  that  dragon,"  suggested  Milly. 

"  Exactly,"  said  Archy,  in  capital  spirits,  until 
an  exhortation  of  his  sister's  tugged  at  his  con- 
science with  a  reminder  that  he  had  promised  to 
be  seriously  in  earnest.  This  was  no  idle  flirta- 
tion, Mrs.  Ferris  had  warned  him;  he  must  show 
himself  capable  of  deep  and  sincere  emotion.  In 
order  to  move  a  clever  woman  of  the  world  like 


216  CIPHERS. 

Milly  Childe,  who  could  turn  any  man  round  her 
finger,  he  must  himself  be  moved.  So,  pulling 
himself  up,  as  it  were,  he  proceeded :  — 

"  I  take  it,  there  is  only  one  important  subject 
for  a  man  or  a  woman." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Milly ;  "  looked  at  from  a 
religious  point  of  view,  there  is  only  "  — 

"  Oh,  I  don't  go  in  for  that  yet,"  said  Archy. 
"  Of  course,  I  want  my  heavenly  kingdom  when 
the  right  time  comes,  but  just  at  present  I  should 
be  quite  satisfied  with  an  earthly  heritage." 

"  There  is  a  neighbor  of  mine  in  a  small  way 
in  the  country,  whom  I  go  to  see  occasionally," 
observed  Milly,  "  who  always  looks  at  me  from 
head  to  foot,  shakes  his  head,  and  says,  '  I  don't 
care  nought  about  the  honors  of  the  world,  the 
riches,  or  the  pleasures  on 't.'  Evidently  you  do 
not  agree  with  him." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  responded  Archy. 

"  By  the  bye,  what  is  your  idea  of  an  earthly 
kingdom  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly. 

"  I  'm  not  hard  to  suit,  —  no  sublime  discon- 
tent about  me,"  returned  Archy,  conscious  all  the 
while  that  he  was  dancing  to  her  piping  when  it 
behooved  him  to  be  the  piper.  "  I  simply  ask  for 
a  comfortable  house,  a  fair  income  to  maintain  it, 
and  a  handsome  wife,  who  understands  how  to 
make  things  go  off  well.  The  rest  will  come  of 
itself." 

"  Certainly  there  is  nothing  unattainable  about 
such  ambitions.  Have  you  picked  out  the  wife 
you  want  ?  "  demanded  Milly. 


CIPHERS.  217 

"  I  picked  her  out  long  ago." 

"  Oh,  you  are  engaged  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  not  yet,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  re- 
turned Archy,  reddening  slightly,  and  his  smile  a 
little  too  broad  and  vague. 

"  What  hinders  you  ? "  inquired  Milly,  with 
wide-open  eyes. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  said  Archy  in  a  wheedling 
voice,  "  a  man  grows  timid  when  so  much  depends 
upon  the  results  of  his  confession.  It  may  be  easy 
enough  to  make  love  when  nothing  is  at  stake, 
but"  — 

"  Do  you  mean  the  wife  or  the  income  ?  "  Milly 
interrupted.  Their  eyes  met,  and  both  laughed. 
"  I  suppose,"  she  added,  "  you  might  like  to  have 
them  identical." 

"  That  would  suit  me  capitally,"  Archy  re- 
torted. "  Everybody  knows  that  I  have  no  income 
except  the  beggarly  nine  hundred  I  earn  down- 
town. It  runs  in  the  Childe  family  to  be  dead- 
beats.  You  know  by  experience  that,  so  far  as 
money  is  concerned,  we  are  all  played  out.  Our 
grandfathers  used  to  be  rich,  but  they  thoughtlessly 
ate  their  cake  and  left  their  descendants  to  find 
their  own  bread  and  butter." 

"  Unless  they  can  make  a  fortune  by  marriage. 
I  take  it,"  remarked  Milly  sweetly,  "  that  the  wife 
you  have  selected  is  well  off." 

"  Very  well  off  indeed,"  said  Archy  demurely. 

"What  a  comfort!" 

"Both  a  comfort  and  a  difficulty,"  explained 


218  CIPHERS. 

Archy.  "  How  should  you  advise  me  to  get  over 
the  difficulty  in  order  to  experience  the  comfort 
of  it?" 

"I  see,"  Milly  exclaimed.  "You  are  not  in 
love  with  her.  '  My  poverty,  but  not  my  will  con- 
sents,' that  is  your  motto." 

Impossible  to  tell  whether  she  were  laughing  at 
him  or  not.  He  had  had  many  warnings  about 
the  amplitude  of  Milly  Childe's  sleeve.  He  tried 
to  infuse  a  gentle  melancholy  into  his  tone  and 
look. 

"  Indeed,  I  am  in  love  with  her,"  he  said  re- 
proachfully. "  You  know  a  man  can't  invariably 
be  at  high  pressure.  Besides,  I  have  always  ob- 
served that  a  calm  and  rational  affection  is  the 
best  foundation  to  marry  on.  Blazing  passion 
burns  itself  out,  and  then  where  are  you  ?  " 

"  What  sort  of  a  woman  is  it  for  whom  you  feel 
this  rational  affection  ? "  inquired  Milly,  as  if 
weighing  the  subject. 

Archy  had  begun  to  find  the  table  an  impedi- 
ment, and  had  gradually  wheeled  his  fauteuil  round 
the  corner  until  he  was  at  a  right  angle  to  the  ob- 
ject of  his  pursuit.  Now,  feeling  that  the  time 
had  come  to  grapple,  as  it  were,  with  the  enemy, 
he  propelled  his  armchair  towards  Milly  with  such 
force  that,  running  with  unexpected  freedom  on 
the  casters,  he  came  up  to  her  full  tilt. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  pardon,"  said  he.  "  I  did  not  in- 
tend to  overwhelm  you."  Then  leaning  forward 
and  looking  up  into  her  face  with  his  most  cherubic 


CIPHERS.  219 

expression,  he  went  on.  "I  should  describe  her 
as  being  very  much  like  yourself." 

"  Oh,  indeed." 

"  It  is  yourself,  cousin  Milly,"  he  exclaimed, 
throwing  reserve  to  the  winds.  "  Of  course  you  un- 
derstood me  all  the  time.  No  use  trying  to  beat 
about  the  bush  with  a  clever  woman  like  you.  Say 
you  will  marry  me.  Come,  now,  I  'in  awfully  fond 
of  you." 

"  No,  thanks,"  said  Milly.  "  I  'm  exceedingly 
grateful,  but "  — 

She  had  been  so  pretty,  so  smiling,  had  listened 
with  such  apparent  interest,  he  had  actually  begun 
to  believe  that  his  bow,  drawn  half  at  a  venture, 
was  not  to  miss  its  mark. 

"  Don't  talk  about  gratitude,"  he  said,  wounded 
by  this  sudden  perfidy ;  "  it  sounds  as  if  you  were 
ironical  or  sarcastic." 

"  I  am,"  said  Milly.  "  It  is  a  fault  of  mine,  —  a 
fault  some  people  say  I  cultivate." 

"I  know  they  say  it,"  Archy  returned  with 
feeling,  "  and  I  have  often  denied  it.  I  always  in- 
sist that  you  really  are  the  best-natured  woman 
alive,  and  that  if  you  seem  ironical  or  sarcastic  it 
is  the  fault  of  the  life  you  lead.  It  cannot  be  a 
healthy  sort  of  life  for  a  woman  :  nobody  with  any 
real  authority  over  you ;  nobody  to  protect  you 
from  gossip  and  calumny ;  unlimited  means,  and 
half  a  dozen  fellows  pretending  to  be  in  love  with 
you  when  actually  all  they  care  about  is  your 
money." 


220  CIPHERS. 

"  Thank  you,  cousin  Archy,  for  putting  the  case 
before  me  so  plainly,"  said  Milly.  "  What  you  say 
is  absolutely  true." 

However,  she  was  able  to  convince  him  that  he 
had  listened  to  bad  advisers  when  he  came  to  offer 
his  services  in  her  behalf.  She  had  had  many  vi- 
sions of  late  of  some  special  plan  of  action  ;  her 
course  of-  thought  advancing,  then  halting,  and 
receding  before  some  obstacle,  finally  read  van  cing 
on  surer  lines.  Nobody  could  fathom  her  caprices, 
and  a  great  many  of  her  friends  and  well-wishers 
were  telling  each  other  in  these  days  that  Milly 
was  too  reckless,  that  it  was  not  an  easy  matter  for 
a  woman  who  uttered  speeches  so  little  difficult  to 
misrepresent  to  keep  herself  from  being  talked 
about.  She  seemed  sometimes  to  take  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  withdrawing  her  own  personality  and 
substituting  in  its  place  a  capricious  being  who 
said  and  did  what  might  answer  for  the  moment, 
but  left  an  impression  adverse  to  what  her  friends 
desired. 

Nobody  saw  this  deepening  tendency  towards 
levity  with  more  solicitude  than  Whiley  Norreys. 
He  was  an  admirable  judge  of  time  and  seasons, 
and  he  had  decided  not  to  come  forward  with  his 
offer  until  mid-Lent,  when  the  present  gay  whirl 
would  be  a  pensive  memory.  But  there  was  some- 
thing erratic  about  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  of  late,  and 
she  had  been  heard  to  say  that  she  liked  southern 
Italy  in  the  early  springtime.  So  it  behooved  him 
not  to  waver,  but  to  press  forward  to  the  breach. 


CIPHERS.  221 

It  is  not  altogether  a  pleasant  matter  for  un  homme 
serieux  to  seem  to  reverse  all  his  plans,  and  pru- 
dence whispered  that  there  might  be  a  certain  awk- 
wardness if,  — that  is  —  but  upon  the  whole  that 
was  impossible.  The  Paul  Secor  adventure  had 
proved  that  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  needed  a  husband's 
protection,  and  in  this  crisis  Whiley  Xorreys  felt 
that  no  other  man's  lot  but  his  own  had  leapt  from 
the  urn. 

He  approached  his  subject  guardedly.  He  had 
dropped  in  to  see  her  one  howling  February  morn- 
ing when  few  visitors  were  likely  to  be  abroad. 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you,  Mrs.  Childe."  he  said 
after  a  few  opening  preliminaries  concerning  the 
weather,  "  how  much  I  admired  your  gown  last 
evening." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you,"  murmured 
Milly. 

"  That  gown  was,  I  consider,  a  chef  d'oeuvre.  I 
have  thought  of  it  many  times  since." 

"  Oh,  it  was  my  gown  you  came  to  see.  Shall  I 
send  for  my  maid  to  bring  it  down  to  you,  Mr. 
Norreys  ?  " 

"  Is  not  your  gown  a  part  of  yourself,  and,  in 
fact,  an  important  part?  Properly  speaking,  a 
gown  is  not  a  gown  until  its  owner  gives  it  style, 
shape,  and  individuality ;  then  it  becomes  part  of 
her  visible  personality.  When  I  thought  of  the 
gown  I  naturally  thought  of  you." 

"  Alas,"  said  Milly,  "  I  have  so  many  gowns 
that  if  I  were  to  distribute  my  identity  between 


222  CIPHERS. 

them  I  should  have  none  left  for  nay  poor  shiver- 
ing self.  I  go  with  you,  Mr.  Norreys,  so  far  as 
to  agree  that  a  gown  ought  to  express  a  woman, 
but  to  effect  this  she  must  wear  it  habitually.  I 
myself  never  really  like  one  of  my  dresses  until  I 
have  worn  it  so  many  times  that  my  maid  insists  it 
is  a  wreck.  I  often  reflect  that  if  I  could  be  per- 
mitted to  wear  my  clothes  until  they  were  all  in 
creases  and  holes  I  might  be  a  better  woman." 

Milly  was  sitting  on  a  low  and  luxurious  sofa, 
and  had  on  a  pretty  house-gown  of  soft  tints, 
softened  still  more  by  ribbons  and  lace.  She 
looked  slender,  pale,  but  charming,  — j^alf  like  a 
nymph,  half  like  a  queen.  This  nonchalance  be- 
came her,  thought  Mr.  Whiley  Norreys,  surveying 
her  with  the  sure  eye  of  a  clever  adversary,  as  he 
sat  in  an  easy-chair  at  her  left,  his  back  to  the 
windows,  the  glow  of  the  distant  fire  in  his  face ; 
well  dressed,  —  a  beautiful  scarf-pin  in  an  immac- 
ulate azure  scarf  which  became  his  complexion; 
one  glove  off,  which  it  was  a  sensible  relief  at 
times  to  flap  with  his  gloved  hand ;  his  hat  and 
cane  on  the  floor.  He  had  chosen  his  position 
with  a  view  to  future  manceuvres. 

"Now  that  is  a  very  interesting  psychological 
problem,"  he  remarked  admiringly,  in  reply  to 
Milly's  statement. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  she  explained,  "  that  when  a 
woman  wears  a  gown  day  after  day,  it  has  all 
sorts  of  suggestions  and  associations  for  her. 
Every  patch  and  darn  recalls  an  indiscretion  it 


CIPHERS.  223 

may  be  good  for  her  not  to  forget,  and  the  spot 
which  has  to  be  hidden  at  once  makes  her  prudent 
and  reserved,  besides  keeping  in  her  own  mind 
what  she  ought  to  remember.  Do  you  not  remem- 
ber Heine's  friend,  the  learned  student,  \vho  made 
use  of  each  article  of  his  dress  and  of  the  furniture 
of  his  room  for  a  system  of  mnemonics,  by  which 
he  fixed  dates  and  philosophical  theories  in  his 
head  ?  Thus  he  grew  fidgety  if  anybody  moved  a 
chair  or  even  a  pair  of  snuffers,  because  it  dis- 
arranged his  arguments  for  the  immortality  of  the 
soul ;  and  when  his  landlady  insisted  that  his 
shirts,  neckties,  and  stockings  should  go  into  the 
wash,  he  possessed  no  longer  any  clew  to  Assyrian 
history." 

"I  do  not  happen  to  remember  that  part  of 
Heine,"  said  Norreys. 

"  Just  so  with  my  gowns.  As  I  was  saying,  if  I 
could  but  wear  one  all  the  time,  I  might  remember 
friends,  foes,  benefits,  injuries;  as  it  is,  I  retain 
no  fixed  impression.  By  the  exigencies  of  civil- 
ized society,  I  am  never  permitted  to  get  used  to 
my  gowns,  and  the  result  is  I  can  have  no  remi- 
niscences, no  associations,  no  poetry,  no  romance. 
I  live  in  a  blur." 

Mr.  Norreys  surveyed  her  as  she  quietly  uttered 
these  revelations  with  his  large,  bland  smile,  but 
his  eyelids  narrowed.  Probably  he  was  saying 
to  himself,  "  Too  much  wit,  too  much  wit ; "  but 
what  he  remarked  was,  "Wealth  imposes  obli- 
gations." 


224  CIPHERS. 

"  A  lady's  maid  does,"  said  Milly.  "  Mine  has 
her  ideals,  and  the  ignoble  practice  of  economy  is 
not  one  of  them.  If  anybody  inquired  what  was 
my  ideal  of  earthly  happiness,  —  which  nobody 
ever  yet  did  take  the  trouble  to  do,  by  the  way,  — 
it  would  be  living  without  a  maid.  I  am  always 
plotting  to  escape  her ;  it  is  of  no  use.  If  I  go  to 
my  room,  she  is  there ;  if  I  retreat  into  any  other 
sanctuary,  she  is  there  before  me.  '  Could  n't  you 
just  as  well  do  that  in  some  other  place  ? '  I  ask 
her ;  then  she  enters  upon  laborious  explanations, 
until  I  admit  there  is  reason  for  her  omnipresence. 
If  there  were  another  woman  in  the  house  to  speak 
to,  —  a  mother,  sister,  daughter,  female  friend,  — 
I  might,  perhaps  "  — 

"  You  sometimes  feel  lonely  then,  Mrs.  Childe," 
observed  Mr.  Norreys,  with  the  tenderest  intona- 
tion. 

"  Very  often ;  in  fact,  constantly,"  said  Milly. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,"  he  exclaimed  triumphantly. 
He  leaned  forward.  "  Sometimes,"  he  went  on 
tenderly,  "  I  have  seen  in  your  eyes  —  what  shall 
I  call  it  ?  —  a  longing  to  escape." 

"You  define  my  feeling  exactly,"  said  Milly. 
"  I  often  have  a  lively  desire  to  run  away ;  but, 
actually,  I  did  suppose  I  hid  it  successfully." 

"  Not  from  me  ;  my  sympathy  is  too  deep." 

"  Oh,  you  also  wish  to  run  away !  " 

*'  I  know  my  obligations  too  well,"  said  Norreys. 
"My  position  is,  of  course,  less  arduous  than 
yours;  still,  my  duties  towards  society  are  well 


CIPHERS.  225 

defined.  I  realize  how  cruel  it  is  for  a  woman 
like  yourself  to  have  to  bear  all  the  burdens  your 
position  imposes.  Often,  when  I  watch  you  re- 
ceiving company,  with  a  slight  frown  of  weariness 
on  your  brow,  I  have  thought  that  the  load  ought 
to  be  lifted  from  you." 

"I  am  often  bored  to  extinction,"  said  Milly, 
"  but  I  try  not  to  let  myself  be  worried  by 
trifles." 

" '  Mistress  of  herself,  though  china  fall,' " 
quoted  Norreys  admiringly.  "That,  of  course, 
is  a  homely  illustration,  and  relates  to  a  more 
primitive  state  of  civilization  than  ours  at  pres- 
ent ;  but  there  is  always  a  possibility  that  trifles 
will  go  wrong,  and  that  they  will,  momentarily 
at  least,  assume  exaggerated  importance.  Every 
house  requires,  not  only  its  sovereign,  but  its  Bis- 
marck or  Gladstone.  Some  person  with  strength 
to  meet  emergencies  has  to  be  told  that  the  boiler 
has  burst,  —  that  the  water  requires  to  be  shut 
off,  —  that  a  gas-pipe  leaks;  and  I  confess  that 
my  homage  to  your  sex  is  so  deep,  so  chivalrous, 
it  seems  a  cruel  diminution  of  the  prerogatives  of 
a  beautiful  woman  to  have  her  attention  called  to 
such  annoyances." 

"Does  Mr.  Gladstone  attend  to  such  matters 
for  Her  Majesty?"  Milly  inquired,  as  if  athirst 
for  information. 

Mr.  Norreys's  oblique  gaze  narrowed  again. 
"Of  course,"  he  said,  changing  his  attitude 
slightly,  and  once  more  assuming  an  upright  po- 


226  CIPHERS. 

sition,  "I  was  speaking  figuratively.  What  I 
meant  to  say  was  this :  In  order  to  have  a  well- 
regulated  house,  some  efficient  person  must  take  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.  Now,  the  mere  necessity  of 
keeping  a  coachman  in  order,  eager  and  willing  to 
have  his  horses  out  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and 
night,  and  in  all  weathers,  has  embittered  the  ex- 
istence of  a  great  many  women.  Then,  as  regards 
entertaining,  there  come  up  perpetually  so  many 
nice  and  delicate  questions,  —  minor  details,  yet, 
actually,  of  the  most  far-reaching  importance. 
For  example,  it  is  so  essential  that  the  right  peo- 
ple should  meet  the  right  people,  and  although 
with  us  the  question  of  precedence  is  not  yet  gov- 
erned by  the  arbitrary  rules  which  settle  it  in  the 
Old  World,  still,  it  is  of  vital  moment  to  the  correct 
arrangement  of  a  dinner-table  that  each  guest 
should  be  placed  in  a  way  to  show  his  true  value. 
I  have  actually  had  my  digestion  endangered 
before  now  by  being  requested  to  take  out  the 
wrong  woman." 

"  I  have  been  put  into  a  towering  rage,  if  that 
is  what  you  mean,"  said  Milly,  "  by  being  taken 
out  by  the  wrong  man." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Norreys  sooth- 
ingly. "The  comfort  of  each  guest  depends  on 
these  seemingly  insignificant  details  of  arrange- 
ment, and  a  mind  of  far-reaching  insight — even 
imagination  —  is  required  to  foresee  the  possibili- 
ties of  each  distinct  social  occasion.  Then  there 
remains  the  question  of  supreme  importance,  — 


CIPHERS.  227 

one  on  which  no  woman  can  be  expected  to  have 
either  true  feeling  or  experienced  judgment.  I 
allude,  of  course,  to  the  subject  of  wines.  Of 
course,  you  may  give  your  butler  general  orders 
as  to  what  brands  shall  be  served,  but  the  question 
is,  ''How  will  they  be  served?'  Will  they  be 
decanted  as  if  they  were  so  much  water  from  the 
Croton  hydrant  ?  What  will  be  the  temperature 
of  the  claret  and  burgundy,  and  will  the  cham- 
pagne \3Qfrappe  or  glace  ?  Plenty  of  high-priced 
butlers  do  not  understand  the  difference  between 
the  two  processes." 

"You  touch  my  conscience,"  said  Milly.  "I 
don't  know  the  difference  between  champagne  hot 
or  cold.  I  supposed  it  was  Wilkins's  mission  to 
attend  to  those  matters." 

"  It  belongs  to  a  connoisseur,  and  only  to  a  con- 
noisseur," said  Mr.  Norreys,  with  feeling.  "  You 
would  not  send  one  of  your  men  to  buy  you  a 
picture ;  well,  the  correct  serving  of  wines  is  just 
as  much  a  question  of  high  art,  and  can  only  bo 
determined  by  the  cognoscente" 

"Mercy  on  us,"  said  Milly;  "you  make  life 
a  very  serious  affair.  I  feel  like  Dr.  Johnson 
when  he  heard  the  young  lady's  performance  on 
the  piano,  and  was  told  it  was  difficult.  '  Diffi- 
cult ! '  he  repeated ;  *  I  wish  it  were  impossible.'  " 

Mr.  Norreys  smiled. 

"  What  I  mean  is,"  he  said,  with  an  easy  gesture 
of  his  smooth,  plump  hand,  which  hovered  for  a 
moment  over  Milly's  lace  and  ribbons,  as  if  it 


228  CIPHERS. 

longed  to  alight  there,  but  then  settled  on  his  own 
knee,  "that  these  labors,  counting  for  more  iri 
civilized  life  than  the  labors  of  Hercules,  do 
exist,  but  that  a  woman  like  yourself,  and  in 
your  position,  ought  never  to  feel  the  burdens  or 
the  perplexities  they  entail.  You  should  have  the 
bead  of  the  wine,  not  the  lees,  —  the  rose  without 
the  thorn.  You  need,  at  every  step  of  your 
career,  some  one  to  whom  you  can  turn,  on  whom 
you  may  rely ;  so  that,  in  short  "  — 

"  I  have  Wilkins,"  said  Milly,  as  if  bewildered, 
"  and  he  has  an  assistant,  —  two,  if  he  wants  them  ; 
then  there  is  Mrs.  Clark,  who  was  Mrs.  Childe's 
factotum  for  long  years.  Actually,  there  does 
not  seem  to  be  room  for  any  one  else  in  the 
establishment." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Childe,"  Mr.  Norreys  began  — 

"  And  after  all,"  Milly  proceeded,  "  if  I  stop 
short  of  poisoning  people  I  do  no  actual  harm.  I 
remember  George  Sand  remarking  in  one  of  her 
letters,  with  some  complacency,  that  she  has  never 
pampered  the  gluttony  of  her  guests.  Henceforth 
I  will  accept  that  as  my  true  aim.  And  as  to  the 
wrong  people  sitting  down  by  the  wrong  people, 
those  tribulations  are  good  for  the  soul.  I  myself 
have  gained  great  altitudes,  and  don't  despair  alto- 
gether of  finally  reaching  heaven  by  just  such  sac- 
rifices." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Childe,"  said  Whiley  Norreys, 
once  more  trying  to  stem  the  flood  of  her  elo- 
quence, his  hand  again  in  air,  and  this  time  actually 


CIPHERS.  229 

touching  the  furbelows  of  her  gown,  "  what  you 
need  is  not  a  servant,  no  paid  subordinate,  no  hire- 
ling, but  "  —  with  a  soft  smile  and  bending  towards 
her  as  he  spoke  —  "a  husband." 

"  Oh,  a  husband,"  said  Milly,  as  if  confounded, 
at  the  same  time  altering  her  position  slightly  so 
that  his  hand  descended  on  a  down  cushion  beside 
her.  Then,  as  if  rallying,  she  went  on  :  "  Evidently, 
Mr.  Norreys,  you  know  very  little  about  domestic 
life  if  you  fancy  that  the  role  a  husband  plays  in 
domestic  life  is  to  oil  the  machinery  and  make 
everything  go  smoothly.  No,  what  he  actually 
does  is  to  forget  until  the  last  moment  that  it  is 
the  night  of  the  dinner-party ;  and  then,  at  having 
to  throw  over  some  delightful  plan  of  his  own,  he 
descends  cross  and  irritable,  ready  to  scowl  at  each 
guest  as  he  or  she  enters,  with  an  expression  as  if 
saying,  'What,  you  here?  What  the  devil  were 
you  invited  for  ?  '  Again,  upsetting  all  the  careful 
table  arrangements  by  refusing  point  blank  to 
take  the  right  woman  to  table,  because  he  dislikes 
her  conversation,  or  because  her  nose  grows  red 
by  the  second  course.  Then,  frowning  at  his  wife 
across  the  length  of  the  board,  making  signals 
impossible  to  comprehend,  caiising  her  to  feel  that 
some  dire  catastrophe  is  likely  to  happen  in  an- 
other moment.  Finally,  after  the  guests  have 
departed,  throwing  a  flood  of  light  on  his  behavior 
by  the  information  that  she  has  used  his  favorite 
sherry,  the  brand  he  had  bought  at  endless  expense 
for  his  own  particular  circle  of  cronies.  That  is 
what  a  husband  is,  Mr.  Norreys." 


230  CIPHERS. 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Childe,  if  that  has  been  your  expe- 
rience "  — 

"  Oh,  no,  not  exactly  my  own  personal  experience. 
Poor  Lee  used  to  shrug  his  shoulders  and  say  he 
did  not  care  who  came  so  long  as  he  had  no 
trouble  in  the  matter.  He  never  found  fault  with 
the  wines  or  the  food,  because  he  could  neither  eat 
or  drink.  He  lived  on  air  the  last  three  years  of 
his  life.  No,  my  knowledge  of  the  habits  of  hus- 
bands was  compiled  from  the  confessions  of  my 
female  friends." 

"  Let  me  have  the  honor  of  showing  you  what 
a  husband  can  be,"  said  Norreys.  "  I  assure  you, 
Mrs.  Childe,  I  will  give  you  a  domestic  happiness 
not  only  beyond  your  experience,  but  perhaps  be- 
yond your  imagination." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Norreys,"  said  Milly,  "  I  beg  you  will 
not"  — 

"  Listen  to  me,  Mrs.  Childe,"  he  returned  indul- 
gently, but  firmly.  "  I  have  thought  a  great  deal 
about  this  matter.  I  have  looked  at  it  from  every 
light.  You  are  certain  to  marry,  —  you  will  be 
obliged  to  marry  in  self-defense,  and  nowhere  can 
you  find  a  suitor  so  disinterested  as  myself.  Here 
you  have  enormous  responsibilities,  a  great  posi- 
tion which  you  must  seek  not  only  to  maintain  but 
compel  to  offer  you  its  full  advantages.  You  your- 
self have  more  than  once  confessed  to  me  that  you 
are  not  willing  to  grapple  with  certain  difficulties. 
And  you  are  right.  You  are  young,  beautiful, 
light-hearted ;  you  like  to  be  on  the  top  crest  of 


CIPHEES.  231 

the  wave,  so  to  speak.  Now,  I  am  solid,  thorough. 
You  need  me.  Just  look  at  the  subject  dispas- 
sionately, and  you  will  concede  that  of  all  women 
you  most  require  a  companion,  guide,  and  familiar 
friend,  —  that  is,  myself.  No  other  man  could 
possibly  supply  just  what  you  lack.  Together  we 
could  do  anything  we  wished  to  do ;  we  could  actu- 
ally lead  New  York  society." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Norreys,"  said  Milly  ardently,  "  I  do 
so  fully  appreciate  your  courage,  your  splendid 
self-denial,  your  "  — 

"  You  accept  me  then  ?  "  He  bent  forward  with 
rapture. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no.  I  could  not  think  of  it.  It  is 
impossible.  For  one  thing,  Wilkins  would  not  stay 
in  the  house  an  hour  if  he  were  ordered  about  and 
looked  after." 

"  Let  him  go,  then,"  said  Mr.  Norreys. 

"  I  could  not  live  without  Wilkins,"  said  Milly. 
"Really,  Mr.  Norreys,  I  feel  as  if  you  did  not 
quite  appreciate  him,  for  your  description  of  a  fac- 
totum fitted  him  to  a  nicety.  He  never  tells  me 
the  boiler  has  burst,  or  that  the  coachman  refuses 
to  get  his  horses  out  when  I  need  them,  and  once, 
hearing  strange  noises  in  the  pipes,  he  actually  got 
up  quietly  in  the  dead  of  night  and  shut  off  the 
water  in  some  occult  way,  —  actually  saved  us 
from  being  flooded,  for  there  was  a  dangerous  leak 
somewhere." 

The  two  regarded  each  other  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  Mr.  Norreys's  face  was  already  red,  and 


232  CIPHERS. 

it  constantly  grew  more  and  more  inflamed,  until 
it  became  a  deep  crimson. 

"  And  besides,"  Milly  went  on  in  a  very  soft, 
languid  voice,  "  I  do  not  expect  to  marry.  To  my 
thinking,  a  woman  almost  twenty-eight  years  of 
age,  who  has  for  five  years  been  a  widow,  needs  to 
be  cautious,  very  cautious,  indeed.  She  has  a  long 
life  before  her,  and  has  already  lost  a  great  many 
of  the  illusions  which  make  marriage  seem  the 
natural  solution  of  her  destiny.  Accordingly,  Mr. 
Norreys,  I  am  not  likely  to  change  my  condition, 
but  I  am  grateful  to  you  for  your  good  intentions, 
most  grateful." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  forebode  disaster,  Mrs.  Childe," 
said  Norreys,  in  the  voice  of  one  who  foresees  ca- 
tastrophes he  might  have  prevented,  "  but "  — 

"  Don't,"  said  Milly.  She  rose.  The  rejected 
suitor  also  rose. 

"  I  think  your  best  friends  must  be  puzzled  to 
account  for  your  conduct,"  he  remarked.  "  I  really 
feel"  — 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Milly  mournfully.  "  Good- 
morning." 


X. 

TOWARDS  four  o'clock  one  dull  day  in  February, 
Miss  Rivera  emerged  from  her  room  in  a  pretty 
toilette,  and  entering  the  small  parlor,  she  was  just 
choosing  a  Bon  Silene  from  a  superb  bunch  of 
roses  which  filled  a  bowl,  when  a  tap  came  at  the 
door.  She  was  expecting  a  visitor,  and  this  sound, 
confirming  her  belief  that  it  had  been  worth  while 
to  make  herself  as  charming  as  possible,  communi- 
cated fresh  brightness  to  her  eyes  and  a  heightened 
color  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said,  after  giving  herself  time 
to  settle  the  rosebud  safely  in  the  lace  at  her 
throat,  and  then  stood  with  a  kittenish  air  of  inno- 
cence and  demure  surprise,  waiting  to  have  her 
visitor  appear.  The  door  opened,  but  instead  of 
the  tall,  heavy-shouldered,  masculine  visitor  she 
had  expected,  a  slender  figure  in  gray  filled  up  the 
doorway.  Anita  gazed  at  the  vision  in  a  vague 
alarm. 

"  Oh,  excuse  me,"  she  murmured,  "  I  thought  it 
was  "  — 

"  Is  this  Miss  Rivera  ?  "  said  the  visitor,  advan- 
cing a  step. 

"  Yes,"  said  Anita.     "  I  "  — 

The  lady  had  by  this  time  entered  and  closed 
the  door  behind  her. 


234  CIPHERS. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said  with  a  smile,  "  you  may 
have  heard  Mr.  Breck  speak  of  me.  I  am  Mrs. 
Lee  Childe." 

Miss  Rivera's  mobile  face,  which  had  by  turns 
taken  every  variety  of  expression,  now  glowed  with 
satisfaction. 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said  fer- 
vently. 

"  Mr.  Breck  has  spoken  of  me,  then  ?  " 

"Not  lately;  but  once  he  told  me  he  had  at- 
tended a  great  reception  at  your  house.  That  was 
months  ago.  But  Mr.  Poorshaw  has  spoken  of 
you,  and  I  read  your  name  in  the  papers  so  con- 
stantly." 

Milly  stood  for  one  moment  in  silence  looking 
at  the  girl.  Her  heart  experienced  one  pang,  then 
the  real  depth  and  truth  and  sweetness  of  her 
nature  stirred  itself,  and  she  was  glad  that  Breck's 
fiancee  was  so  lovely ;  for  she  happened  to  see 
Anita  at  a  moment  when  every  possibility  of  her 
face  was  revealed :  the  large,  startled,  splendid 
eyes,  the  sudden  flash  of  color,  the  first  soft 
roguishness  of  the  smile  changing  into  a  soft  pout- 
ing surprise,  all  helped  to  give  her  a  surpassing 
beauty.  It  was,  too,  the  bright  saucy  beauty  of  a 
young  creature  whose  look  of  ardent  life  suggested 
that  she  had  been  caught  in  some  mischievous 
gambols  which  she  was  eager  to  resume. 

"  I  hope  you  will  forgive  my  coming  to  see  you," 
said  Milly,  "  but  I  wanted  to  meet  you,  —  to  hear 
you  sing." 


CIPHERS.  235 

Anita  made  a  little  gesture. 

"  I  don't  believe  it  was  Mr.  Breck  who  told  you 
that  I  sang,"  she  said,  laughing  and  blushing. 

"Why  not?  Why  should  he  not  have  told 
me?" 

"  Because  Mr.  Breck  has  no  great  belief  in  my 
voice,"  said  Anita.  "  He  has  quite  given  up  the 
idea  that  I  could  ever  be  a  great  singer." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Milly,  coining  closer  to  the 
girl  and  taking  her  hand  and  looking  at  her  with 
a  soft,  admiring  smile,  "  he  has  at  heart  other  hopes 
and  wishes  for  you." 

Anita  laughed ;  her  consciousness  thrilled  all 
through  with  the  flattery  of  her  visitor's  look  and 
manner. 

"  I  cannot  give  up  everything  most  precious  to 
me  for  anybody's  hopes  and  wishes,"  she  returned. 

"  So  you  are  anxious  to  be  a  great  singer," 
Milly  now  said,  continually  fascinated  by  the  girl's 
vivid  coloring,  —  her  air  of  superabundant  life. 

"  Has  not  a  woman  a  life  of  her  own  to  lead  ?  " 
said  Anita.  "  If  you  had  some  artistic  gift,  Mrs. 
Childe,  something  that  thrilled  you  with  a  sense 
of  having  power  to  do  what  you  liked  with,  and 
which  made  everyday  life  seem  poor  and  dull  and 
tame  and  sad,  should  you  be  willing  to  give  it  up 
and  sacrifice  a  possibly  brilliant  future  ?  It  seems 
to  me  like  putting  away  the  great  glorious  sun  and 
accepting  a  dim  little  candle  in  its  place.  But 
then,  you  could  not  feel  as  I  do,  —  your  life  gives 
you  everything ;  there  is  no  cramp  and  pettiness 


236  CIPHERS. 

from  which  you  daily  beg  to  be  delivered.  So  you 
cannot  quite  judge  what  art  means  to  me." 

She  poured  out  her  words  with  a  soft  vehe- 
mence, smiling  constantly,  yet  with  charming  ca- 
dences expressive  at  times  of  high  disdain. 

"  But,"  said  Milly  archly,  "  Mr.  Breck  told  me 
you  were  engaged  to  him." 

"  That  was  not  quite  fair,"  retorted  Anita. 

"  Not  fair  ?  Of  course  I  shall  not  repeat  it ;  but 
I  wanted  to  explain  —  " 

"  I  do  not  call  it  an  engagement  exactly,"  said 
Anita  eagerly.  "  I  have  never  absolutely  pro- 
mised, —  I  told  him  I  could  not  make  up  my 
mind  in  a  moment." 

"  Is.  not  that  a  little  cruel,  —  if  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  But  I  do  not  say  that  I  do  love  him,"  said 
Anita,  blushing  and  dimpling  with  laughter.  "  Of 
course  I  know  that  he  is  charming,  lovable,  clever, 
and  that  he  is  in  love  with  me."  This  was  so 
roguishly  said  that  any  momentary  effect  of  per- 
sonal vanity  was  surmounted  by  the  charm  of  her 
candor.  "  When  he  is  here,"  she  went  on,  "  I 
sometimes  feel  as  if,  after  all,  nothing  could  be 
so  sweet  as  giving  up,  —  being  carried  away  by  a 
power  one  does  not  care  to  resist."  There  was  a 
curve  in  her  lips  as  she  said  this,  an  arch  of  the 
brow,  and  a  laughing  side  glance  of  the  eye  which 
cast  its  spell  over  Milly.  "  But  after  he  has 
gone,"  proceeded  Anita,  "  I  shake  myself,  as  it 
were,  say  to  myself, '  You  little  fool,  how  can  you 
let  yourself  be  duped, —  how  can  you  be  blinded  by 


CIPHERS.  237 

illusions  ? '  For  I  know  very  clearly  what  I  want 
in  the  world,  and  it  is  not  love  in  a  cottage,  even 
with  Sidney  Breck." 

They  had  sat  down  side  by  side  on  a  little  sofa. 
Milly's  impressions  were  vividly  clear,  but  not 
broad.  They  took  in  but  two  realities :  one  was 
that  the  girl  was  pretty,  piquant,  and  irresistible, 
the  other  that  Breck  was  naturally  and  inevitably 
in  love  with  her.  No  need  for  mistakes  ;  all  was 
plain,  straightforward,  tangible.  Every  word  the 
girl  uttered  was  a  suggestion  opening  up  far  vistas. 
She  knew  the  way  to  hold  a  lover,  half-denying, 
half-complying.  Milly  was  stung  anew  by  self- 
scorn.  Anita  was  so  thrillingly  pretty  ;  not  only 
her  face,  but  her  shape,  her  hands,  her  wrists. 

"  I  am  frank,"  Anita  went  on,  "  but  something 
in  your  face  makes  it  easy  to  tell  you  everything." 

"  I  am  Mr.  Breck's  warm  friend,  —  and  yours," 
said  Milly. 

"  I  grow  furious  with  wrath  sometimes,  you  see," 
Anita  went  on,  "  because  I  can't  help  considering 
him  a  little  domineering.  He  asked  me  to  marry 
him  at  a  moment  when  I  was  utterly  discouraged. 
I  had  made  what  seemed  to  me  a  miserable  failure 
at  a  concert  and  felt  that  everything  was  at  an 
end,  —  that  nothing  mattered." 

"  But  was  not  that  the  very  moment  for  the 
man  who  loved  you  to  speak  ?  "  cried  Milly.  "  He 
wanted  to  shield  you,  to  comfort  you,  —  to  "  — 

"  Of  course  he  meant  well,"  said  Anita,  "  but 
for  all  that  it  was  not  precisely  fair.  He  knows 


238  CIPHERS. 

that  I  hate  poverty ;  but  just  at  that  moment  I 
had  given  up,  and  he  took  advantage  of  my  weak- 
ness." 

"  Your  weakness !  Do  you  try  to  believe  you 
are  not  a  little  wee  bit  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  no  time  to  care  about  such  things," 
said  Anita.  "You  cannot  think  what  an  absurd 
jumble  Sidney's  ideas  of  our  future  make  with 
mine.  I  suppose  he  is  half  joking,  for  he  is  always 
quoting,  '  You  must  burn  the  gods  you  used  to  wor- 
ship and  worship  the  gods  you  used  to  burn.' " 

"  That  is,  you  must  give  up  your  unrest,  your 
self-love,  your  selfish  ambition,"  said  Milly  with 
swift  insight.  "  You  must  feel  childlike  faith  and 
hope  and  belief.  No  more  looking  before  and 
after  and  pining  for  what  is  not "  — 

"All  that  and  more,"  said  Anita,  laughing.  "  He 
tries  to  convince  me  that  nothing  is  so  delightful 
as  poverty.  He  jokes  about  our  living  in  one 
room,  and  my  cooking  his  meals  and  mending  his 
clothes.  Of  course  he  is  not  poor  like  that.  My 
brother  Hugh  says  that  Champion  &  Breck  do  a 
very  fair  business,  and  that  Sidney  ought  to  have 
at  least  four  or  five  thousand  a  year.  But  after 
all,  what  is  five  thousand  a  year  when  I  might 
hope  to  make  at  least  that  a  week  ?  " 

Milly  did  not  answer  for  a  moment ;  she  was 
perhaps  weighing  the  two  budgets  :  Sidney  Breck's 
five  thousand  a  year  against  Miss  Rivera's,  —  how 
many  weeks  in  the  year  did  she  expect  to  make  a 
thousand  dollars  a  night  ? 


CIPHERS.  239 

"  Sidney  sees  life  very  simply,"  Anita  went  on. 
"  I  tell  him  lie  is  so  refined  himself  that  he  needs 
none  of  the  refinements  of  life.  Now  I  do.  I  am 
a  practical,  actual  person ;  I  love  so  many  things ; 
I  need  to  be  pampered  a  little.  I  worship  luxury. 
There  are  two  ways  for  a  woman  to  make  money : 
one  is  by  marrying,  the  other  by  becoming  a  singer 
or  an  actress." 

"  Some  women  do  both,"  said  Milly. 

"  I  do  not  believe  Sidney  would  permit  his  wife 
to  do  anything  in  public,  and  he  does  not  believe 
in  my  voice.  But  then  he  is  fastidious  ;  he  insists 
on  some  unspeakable  perfection.  He  never  will 
admit  that  a  lucky  or  unlucky  opportunity  is  be- 
hind success  or  failure.  He  will  never  agree  with 
me  that  the  reason  I  was  received  coldly  was  be- 
cause I  wore  the  wrong  sort  of  gown." 

"  The  wrong  sort  of  gown?""  repeated  Milly. 

"A  woman  can  understand  these  matters,"  said 
Anita,  longing  for  a  sympathizer. 

"  Tell  me  about  the  gown,"  said  Milly,  meeting 
her  half  way. 

Anita  poured  out  the  story,  not  sparing  the 
fallacy  of  Maddy's  infallible  recipes  for  picking 
and  choosing.  Anita  did  more  than  describe  the 
imperfections  of  the  yellow  satin  and  lace  gown  ; 
she  presented  the  whole  situation  dramatically, 
showed  Sidney  Breck  sitting  in  judgment  on  the 
toilette,  and  approving  with  his  eyes,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  his  words.  She  was  a  true  raconteuse,  and 
hated  to  spoil  a  narrative  by  leaving  out  vivid  and 


240  CIPHERS. 

effective  touches  wherever  they  were  needed.  More 
than  before,  Milly  was  now  convinced  of  Breck's 
long  and  fervid  passion,  his  intimate  comings  and 
goings.  A  girl  does  not  try  on  her  new  gowns 
before  unfamiliar  friends. 

"  I  dare  say  the  gown  was  extremely  pretty," 
she  remarked,  "  only  it  was  worn  at  the  wrong 
time.  Did  nobody  praise  your  singing?" 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you  that  next  day,  just  a 
little  too  late,  I  was  in  very  good  spirits  again,  for 
the  papers  all  spoke  well  of  me." 

"Did  not  that  convince  Mr.  Breck?" 

"  He  said  that  his  friend  Mr.  Ruff  was  power- 
ful with  the  critics  and  had  given  them  a  hint." 

"  I  want  you  to  sing  for  me,"  said  Milly.  "  I 
came  to  ask  you  to  sing  at  a  musicale  at  my  house, 

—  two   musicales,  three,  if   you  like.     One  must 
keep  something  going  in  Lent.     Now  let  me  hear 
you,  — that  is,  if  you  are  willing  to  try." 

Anita  was  more  than  willing,  eager.  She  had 
divined  that  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  had  something  in 
view,  and  this  was  the  chance  she  courted.  She 
inquired  what  songs  her  patroness  wished  to  hear, 

—  then,  kindled,  sang  not  only  her  best,  but  be- 
yond what  had  hitherto  been  her  best.     Milly  was 
ready  to  admire,  but  she  was  startled.     Here  was 
a  singer   indeed;   a  mezzo  voice  of   marvelously 
rich   and   sympathetic  quality,  and   possessing   a 
range  which  gave  her  the  advantage  of  a  soprano  ; 
wonderfully  flexible,  too,  and   exquisitely  correct 
in  intonation.     She  sprang  up  and  kissed  the  girl. 


CIPHERS.  241 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  you  are  wonderful." 

"I  do  not  always  sing  like  that,"  returned 
Anita,  glowing  like  a  gem.  "  You  inspire  me. 
Some  people  paralyze  me  "  — 

"  You  need  not  think  of  them.  With  such  a 
voice  and  such  skill,  your  path  to  success  shines 
definite  and  certain.  I  will  invite  all  the  people 
who  make  opinions.  Drawing-room  celebrities  are 
the  fashion  nowadays." 

"  I  know,"  said  Anita.  "  It  is  just  the  way  I 
have  longed  to  be  launched." 

"  If  I  were  you,"  said  Milly,  "  I  should  aim  at 
becoming  a  singer  of  songs.  It  is  quite  time  we 
had  a  real  singer.  The  world  is  in  danger  of  for- 
getting what  songs  are.  A  song  is  to  the  opera 
what  a  lyric  is  to  the  drama.  The  heart  of  the 
whole  thing  is  in  it.  At  least,  you  shall  sing  songs 
at  my  musicale." 

They  plotted  together  how  to  make  the  affair 
most  successful ;  how  to  strike  the  key-note  ;  how 
to  grasp  the  situation  and  compel  it  to  yield  all 
that  it  contained. 

"And  I  must  not  make  any  mistake  about  my 
gown  this  time,"  said  Anita.  "You  will  know, 
Mrs.  Childe,  exactly  what  I  ought  to  wear." 

"You  will  go  to  my  dressmaker,"  said  Milly. 
"  She  can  suggest,  and  then  we  will  choose.  Not 
that  it  makes  any  particular  difference.  Your 
voice  is  beyond  reach  of  those  trivial  accidents, — 
it  would  triumph  over  a  Mother  Hubbard  gown." 
Then  another  danger  suddenly  hove  into  sight. 
"But  will  Mr.  Breck  like  it?"  she  asked. 


242  CIPHERS. 

"  I  am  not  his  slave  yet,"  said  Anita  exultingly. 
"  I  need  not  ask  whether  he  likes  it  or  not.  In 
fact,  if  he  cares  about  me  as  he  ought,  he  should 
be  enchanted  with  whatever  I  do.  Though  he 
sometimes  makes  me  half  in  love  with  what  I  hate, 
he  understands  very  well  that  nothing  will  satisfy 
me  except  doing  something  that  everybody  bows 
down  before.  When  I  was  a  tiny  little  girl  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  must  be  clever  and  win 
greatness.  If  I  saw  people  rich  and  successful 
and  happy,  I  would  clench  my  little  fist  and  stamp 
my  little  foot,  and  say, '  The  time  will  come  when  I 
shall  look  down  upon  them.'  " 

"  Be  thankful  that  you  were  not  born  with 
everything,  —  that  you  have  been  allowed  to  feel 
the  spur  which  comes  from  needs.  '  There  is  no  in- 
spiration in  possession  "  — 

"There  is  no  inspiration  in  longing  to  have 
things  one  cannot  get,"  said  Anita^  "  What  one 
needs  is  to  have  the  object  not  beyond  reach. 
Sometimes  this  poor  life  of  make-shifts,  this  hid- 
eous little  room,  frets  and  jars  me  so  that  I  can 
do  nothing  but  get  into  a  rage." 

Milly's  eyes  traveled  slowly  around  the  parlor, 
not  a  detail  of  which  she  had  yet  observed. 

"  I  am  sure  the  room  looks  to  me  extremely 
pretty ;  "  she  said,  "  so  much  color  and  variety. 
And  you  have  superb  flowers  ;  I  suppose  I  need 
not  ask  who  sends  them  to  you,"  she  smiled  archly. 
She  seemed  by  this  time  to  have  lived  down  every 
pang. 


CIPHERS.  243 

"  Not  Mr.  Breck  ;  I  assure  you  he  is  too  matter- 
of-fact  to  send  me  cut  flowers.  Indeed,  he  hates 
cut  flowers,  —  he  says  the  sight  of  them  hurts 
him,"  said  Anita.  "  His  traits  are  so  oddly  con- 
trasted,—  he  is  so  romantic  in  some  ways,  and  so 
painfully  practical  in  others.  When  there  is  any 
question  of  self-indulgence  he  seizes  the  chance  to 
deny  himself." 

"But  he  does  not  enforce  self-denial  upon 
you?" 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Anita  with  much  emphasis. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  he  sent  me  at  Christmas? 
Twenty  yards  of  gray  crepe  de  chine  for  a  gown. 
He  said  he  wanted  me  to  have  it  made  simply,  and 
that  I  should  be  presentable  for  any  occasion." 

"  Ah,"  cried  Milly,  "  a  girl  may  trust  a  man  who 
observes  her  needs  and  helps  her.  A  woman  real- 
izes the  worth  of  these  little  indications  more  than 
a  girl." 

"  I  am  not  an  unnatural  creature,"  said  Anita, 
"  and  I  was  charmed  by  his  goodness.  Still  it 
does  not  answer  my  ideas  of  what  a  man  madly  in 
love  ought  to  do.  I  like  foolish  outlay,  nonsensi- 
cal extravagance.  I  should  prefer  to  have  a  man 
spend  all  his  money  on  one  single,  flawless  dia- 
mond for  the  girl  he  worships  than  to  save  it  up 
to  buy  kitchen  utensils." 

Milly  glanced  again  at  the  flowers  with  an  ex- 
pression on  her  face  which  brought  a  blush  to 
Anita's  cheeks. 

"  Mr.  Poorshaw  sent  them  to  me,"  she  said.    "  I 


244  CIPHERS. 

believe  he  is  very  rich,  so  such  lavishness  does 
not  count  with  him  ?  " 

Milly  caught  the  little  round  soft  hand. 

"I  hope,  dear,"  she  said,  "you  are  not  making 
a  mistake.  You  are  not  playing  Geddes  Poor- 
shaw  against  Mr.  Breck  ?  You  let  it  be  under- 
stood that  you  are  engaged  ?  " 

"  But  I  do  not  call  myself  engaged,"  said  Anita. 
"  Mr.  Poorshaw  knows  that  Sidney  is  my  particu- 
lar friend,  and  that  is  quite  enough." 

"Mr.  Poorshaw  does  not  make  love  to  you?" 
said  Milly. 

"  Indeed  he  does  not  make  love  to  me,"  said 
Anita  quickly,  noticing  the  expression  on  Milly's 
face ;  that  face  so  luminous,  so  sweet,  so  full  of 
sympathy,  but  which  at  this  allusion  to  Mr.  Poor- 
shaw showed  a  flash  of  the  blue  eyes  like  a  sword 
coming  out  of  a  silken  sheath.  Never  had  Anita 
been  so  anxious  to  please  any  one  as  she  was  now 
to  please  Mrs.  Lee  Childe.  "  I  am  not  thinking  of 
lovers,"  she  added,  lifting  her  head  with  a  charm- 
ing young  dignity.  "  I  shall  think  of  nothing  but 
the  songs  I  am  to  practice  for  your  musicale." 

Milly's  thoughts  had  reverted,  for  the  first  time 
since  she  entered,  to  her  idea  that  Geddes  Poorshaw 
was  himself  in  love  with  Miss  Rivera,  but  undoubt- 
edly if  he  had  any  such  pretensions  they  had  been 
but  matter  for  an  idle  hour.  This  quick  rush  of 
sympathy  for  Breck  ardently  in  love  with  a  girl 
who  was  all  the  time  accepting  the  attentions  of  a 
richer  man  had  somehow  chilled  her.  The  throb  of 


CIPHERS.  245 

impulse  to  say  more  subsided  to  a  dumb  yearning 
of  feeling,  which  Anita  was  thrilled  by  as  Milly 
clasped  her  and  kissed  her.  "  I  shall  come  again 
very  soon,"  she  said,  "  and  you  must  consult  Mr. 
Contarini  and  bring  him  to  see  my  rooms." 

Then  she  went  away. 

Anita  had  been  bright,  gay,  spontaneous  with 
Milly,  and  now  left  alone  she  had  no  qualms  of 
conscience  over  anything  that  she  had  said.  Still 
it  must  be  confessed  that,  the  moment  the  sound 
of  her  visitor's  footsteps  died  away,  she  exclaimed 
audibly :  — 

"  Very  lucky  he  did  not  happen  to  come  while 
she  was  here." 

She  had,  however,  a  wonderful  new  idea  to  con- 
template, and  she  sat  down  to  brood,  not  upon  pos- 
sible lovers,  but  upon  the  musicale,  the  thoughts 
of  which  opened  a  vista  for  her  generous  imagina- 
tion to  fill  up.  Within  five  minutes,  however, 
there  came  a  second  tap  at  the  door,  and  this  time 
at  her  "  Come  in  "  Geddes  Poorshaw  entered. 

"  Oh !  who  do  you  th.ink  has  been  here  ?  "  cried 
Anita. 

"  I  know  only  too  well,"  he  replied.  "  I  have 
been  dodging  her  coachman  and  groom  for  half  an 
hour,  waiting  for  her  to  go  away." 

"  You  knew  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  was  here  then  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  was  not  surprised,  She  had  spoken  of 
coming  to  see  you  to  ask  you  to  sing  at  a  musi- 
cale." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  ?  " 


246  CIPHERS. 

"  I  hoped  it  was  only  one  of  her  thousand  ca- 
prices. I  do  not  see  why  you  should  be  patronized 
in  that  way." 

"  In  that  way  ?  It  is  what  I  have  longed  for. 
I  have  heard  of  artists  who  sang  at  private  con- 
certs in  Paris  and  St.  Petersburg,  who  were  loaded 
with  jewels  which  the  great  ladies  tore  off  their 
necks  and  arms  to  give  them." 

"  Ah,  it  is  the  jewels  you  want,"  said  Poorshaw, 
who  had  not  sat  down,  but  stood  leaning  on  the 
back  of  a  chair,  and  looking  down  at  the  girl. 

"  It  is  everything.  I  would  rather  be  Patti  for 
one  evening  than  Queen  of  England  for  her  whole 
life." 

He  laughed.  "You  are  ambitious.  Well,  be 
Patti  if  you  can,  only  you  must  go  the  right  way 
to  work." 

"  What  is  the  right  way  to  go  to  work  ?  " 

"  Marry  me.  I  will  take  you  abroad  and  you 
shall  have  every  advantage.  If  you  want  to  sing 
in  public,  you  shall  sing  in  public ;  if  you  want  to 
go  on  the  stage,  you  shall  go  on  the  stage." 

"  Marry  you !  "  shrieked  Anita.  "  I  am  an  ar- 
tist. I  do  not  wish  to  impede  my  career." 

"  I  should  say  your  career  was  somewhat  im- 
peded already.  What  I  offer  is  to  remove  certain 
obstacles." 

"What  obstacles?" 

"  You  told  me  yesterday  that  you  were  to  have 
a  happy  day  to-day  because  your  sister  was  to 
spend  the  afternoon  and  night  at  her  mother's, 


CIPHERS.  247 

and  accordingly  you  would  not  be  pulled  about 
and  distracted  by  those  three  youngsters.  You 
have  no  freedom,  you  are  cramped  and  restricted. 
Now  I  happen  to  have  money  enough  to  give  your 
tastes  and  inclinations  free  vent.  I  should  rather 
like  to  see  what  a  girl  like  you  could  turn  out,  with 
nothing  to  bore  her." 

"  You  flatter  yourself  I  should  not  be  bored  ?  " 
she  said  saucily,  —  too  saucily,  for  he  winced. 

"  I  don't  venture  to  believe  you  are  in  love  with 
me,"  said  he  with  a  shrug. 

"  I  should  rather  think  not." 

"  What  I  wonder  is,  whether  you  are  in  love 
with  any  other  man." 

"  Of  course  I  am  not  in  love  with  any  other 
man.  It  is  not  my  metier  to  be  in  love.  I  could 
act  it,  I  could  sing  it,  but  nothing  would  induce 
me  to  feel  it." 

"  Not  in  love  with  any  one  at  all  ?  " 

"  A  little  with  Mrs.  Lee  Childe,  who  is  the  most 
charming  person  I  ever  met." 

"  But  with  no  man  ?  " 

"  With  no  man." 

"  Your  heart  never  felt  a  throb  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  piece  of  crystal  glass  which  beats  here," 
she  said,  putting  her  hand  on  her  heart. 

"Fancy  me  in  love  with  a  perfectly  heartless 
girl,"  said  Poorshaw.  "  Just  fancy !  " 


XI. 


THE  release  which  a  new  hope  gives  a  man  from 
the  trammels  of  the  ordinary  had  been  an  interest- 
ing phenomenon  to  Mr.  Rutherford  Childe,  who  had 
for  many  years  lacked  any  fresh  inspiration,  and 
had  lived  chiefly  by  routine.  The  unreasonable, 
unaccountable  persistence  of  the  ideal  in  a  mind 
which  has  long  since  discarded  ideals  surprised 
him.  At  times  he  was  ready  to  accuse  Milly  of 
cruelty,  for  having  spoiled  his  peace  of  mind ;  then 
he  forgave  her,  confessing  that  this  suggestion  of 
a  second  marriage  offered  him  something  to  think 
about,  and,  in  certain  moments,  took  on  hues  of 
rose  color,  and  lent  a  strange  glamour  to  existence. 
Had  he  originated  the  idea  it  could  never  have  en- 
joyed the  lease  of  life  he  now  granted  it,  out  of 
concession  to  Milly.  Had  he  first  confessed  to 
his  own  heart  that  he  wished  to  marry  Mrs. 
Fletcher,  examined  his  own  feelings  and  probed 
for  hers,  he  would  have  blushed  at  his  own  ab- 
surdity. A  man  of  sixty-six  amorous  and  inclined 
to  experiment  on  the  reciprocal  sentiment  of  a 
widow  a  few  years  his  junior !  The  thing  would 
have  been  preposterous.  But  the  responsibility 
was  Milly's,  and  she  possessed  plenty  of  feminine 
acuteness.  She  read  the  situation  with  insight 
and  sympathy,  saw  that  here  were  two  elderly  peo- 


CIPHEES.  249 

pie  each  of  whom  needed  the  other.  What  could 
be  simpler !  It  would  be  such  a  comfortable  ar- 
rangement. It  is  true  that  hitherto  his  definition 
of  matrimony  had  not  been  a  comfortable  arrange- 
ment ;  quite  the  contrary,  for  his  experience  had 
left  a  sort  of  prejudice  in  his  mind.  He  had  not 
been,  so  to  say,  unhappy  with  the  late  Mrs.  Childe, 
who  was  a  masterful  spirit,  born  for  supremacy, 
because  he  had  afforded  her  little  opportunity  to 
meddle  with  him.  At  the  first  intimation  of  such 
officious  interposition  he  had  remarked,  "  Too  much 
interference !  "  and  had  set  off  for  Egypt. 

What  Milly  ought  to  have  done  after  recklessly 
throwing  this  projectile  into  his  still  inflammable 
heart,  was  to  have  proceeded  to  do  the  same  with 
Mrs.  Fletcher.  In  fact  he  had  counted  on  such 
good  services.  Then,  after  creating  a  simultaneous 
explosion,  she  could  have  joined  the  two  hands  and 
otherwise  have  arranged  and  simplified  matters. 

But  it  soon  became  evident  that  his  daughter-in- 
law  had  spoken  without  mature  deliberation,  throw- 
ing off  the  suggestion  at  a  white  heat  of  energy 
when  the  most  marvelous  accidents  in  life  seemed 
easy.  Of  late  she  had  been  in  a  quieter  mood, 
talked  less  and  brooded  a  good  deal.  She  did  not, 
of  her  own  accord,  again  bring  up  the  subject,  but 
when  he  himself  alluded  to  it,  she  gave  one  of  her 
crisp  nods  and  bright  smiles,  and  said,  "  Why  don't 
you  ?  "  evidently  expecting  him  to  act  for  himself. 

It  was  a  ponderous  combustible  for  a  quiet  man 
to  carry  about  without  any  one  to  share  the  burden 


250  CIPHERS. 

with  him.  What  a  pity  that  he  and  Mrs.  Fletcher, 
used  as  they  were  to  discussing  all  sorts  of  sub- 
jects together,  could  not  talk  this  over,  looking  at 
it  objectively,  subjectively,  from  an  interested  and 
from  a  disinterested  standpoint,  and  decide  whether 
it  was  or  was  not  feasible. 

These  problems  assailed  him.  He  was  a  man  in 
his  sixty-sixth  year  ;  now  how  does  a  man  of  sixty- 
five  years  and  eight  months  strike  a  woman's  per- 
ceptions ? 

He  had  110  money  in  particular,  but  Milly  had 
long  since  told  him  he  need  never  think  twice 
about  that  matter,  as  he  was  certain  of  always  find- 
ing an  ample  balance  at  his  banker's.  Mrs. 
Fletcher  was  fairly  well  off,  so  financially  there 
was  no  painful  discrepancy  in  their  circumstances. 

What  would  she  say  to  it  ? 

What  would  her  children,  nephews,  and  nieces 
say? 

What  would  people  in  general  say  ? 

Where  would  she  wish  him  to  live  ?  In  her  own 
house,  on  Gramercy  Park,  or  in  his,  —  that  is, 
Milly's  ?  His  daughter-in-law  had  paid  the  heavy 
mortgage  on  the  Childe  property  at  the  time  of 
her  marriage,  and  her  trustees  held  the  title-deeds. 

He  himself  would  prefer  to  make  no  changes  at 
his  time  of  life.  Still,  marriage  is  inevitably  an 
upheaval ;  alas,  there  lay  the  danger  !  He  had  a 
flitting  insight  as  to  the  untamed,  original  elements 
a  woman  brings  into  a  man's  life.  But  then  again, 
his  gallant  youthful  spirit  revived,  and  he  courted 


CIPHERS.  251 

them.     At  times  he  even  felt  refreshingly  stimu- 
lated by  the  idea  of  them. 

He  took  advantage  of  one  of  these  more  hope- 
ful intervals,  and  one  snowy  morning  went  to  see 
Mrs.  Fletcher.  There  was  nothing  out  of  the 
common  in  this,  for  it  had  been  his  habit  to  go 
constantly  to  see  Mrs.  Fletcher  before  he  was 
under  the  weight  of  this  turbulent  secret  of  which 
he  longed  to  be  delivered. 

She  was  in  her  usual  place  before  the  fire 
when  he  entered,  in  her  comfortable  armchair, 
flanked  by  two  low  tables  holding  books,  papers, 
periodicals,  wool-work,  indeed,  every  appliance  fa- 
vorable to  pleasant  occupation,  yet  she  was  sitting 
with  her  pretty  hands  folded  in  her  lap. 

"  Oh,  cousin  Rutherford,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you.  I  was  thinking  about  you." 

"  Thinking  about  me  ?  "  said  Mr.  Childe,  almost 
with  a  qualm.  Perhaps,  after  all,  Milly  had  fore- 
stalled him.  He  was  holding  her  hand,  and  for  a 
moment  had  the  impulse  to  kiss  it,  then  was  con- 
scious of  fumbling,  so  waited  for  an  occasion  when 
he  coidd  be  more  swift  and  direct.  "  And  what 
were  you  thinking  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  thought  more  than  once  of  late,"  said 
Mrs.  Fletcher,  "  that  you  were  not  well.  You  look 
to  me  rather  feverish." 

He  sat  down  opposite  her  with  an  air  of  relief. 

"  I  was  apprehensive  about  the  adjective,"  he 
remarked ;  "  you  might  have  said  old." 

"  Oh  dear,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher,  "  I  never 


252  CIPHERS. 

think  of  you  as  old."  She  smiled  at  him  so  brightly 
he  felt  dazzled. 

"  I  am  not  feverish,"  said  he.  "  That  is,  I  eat 
and  sleep  as  usual.  I  am  too  much  alone,  I  sup- 
pose. I  think  too  much." 

"  One  is  apt  to  try  to  look  too  far  into  things," 
responded  Mrs.  Fletcher.  "  Now  when  I  find  my- 
self trying-  to  settle  the  affairs  of  the  universe  I 
say  to  myself  '  After  all,  they  have  got  on  without 
me  for  some  five  or  six  thousand  years,'  —  so  I 
give  it  up." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Childe  reluctantly. 
He  had  sat  down  almost  in  front  of  her  in  the  cozy 
corner  by  the  fireplace. 

"  That  is  too  low  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

"  Not  at  all,  —  suits  me  very  well,"  he  returned. 

"  Put  your  legs  up,  —  lean  back,  —  there,  let  me 
arrange  the  cushions  behind  you,  so.  That  is  bet- 
ter," said  Mrs.  Fletcher,  —  "  that  is  more  comfort- 
able, is  it  not  ?  " 

"Too  comfortable,"  said  Mr.  Childe.  "You 
spoil  an  old  fellow." 

"  I  want  to  spoil  him.  I  'm  so  delighted  to  see 
you.  I  am  to  have  some  cold  birds  for  lunch,  — 
Aggy  sent  them.  I  wanted  somebody  to  enjoy 
them  with  me." 

"  You  and  I  have  known  each  other  a  long  time, 
Agnes." 

She  nodded  at  him  kindly,  and  he  proceeded, 
"  When  we  reflect  upon  what  we  saw  together  in 
our  youth,  what  the  world  was  then,  and  what  it 


CIPHERS.  253 

has  come  to,  —  how  when  we  were  young  certain 
ideas  were  inculcated  "  — 

He  paused  a  moment,  losing  the  thread  of  his 
discourse. 

"  Yes,"  she  acquiesced  cheerfully,  "I  often  think 
of  it." 

"  It  really  does  seem  to  me,"  he  went  on,  "  that 
you  and  I  are  the  sole  survivors  of  a  better  genera- 
tion." 

"  Dear  me,  we  are  not  the  oldest  inhabitants 
yet,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

"  But  everybody  else  has  forgotten.  When  I 
wish  to  say  to  any  one  '  Do  you  remember  ?  '  I  turn 
to  you." 

"  Exactly.  Just  so  when  a  recollection  floats  up 
to  my  mind,  I  say  to  myself,  '  I  must  tell  cousin 
Rutherford.' " 

"  Now  don't  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Childe,  "  there 
is  a  peculiar  affinity,  —  a  secret  link  between  us  ?  " 
He  had  changed  his  position.  "  Press  a  button, 
as  it  were,  and  it  touches  the  same  spring  of  old 
feelings  and  memories  in  each  of  us." 

"  That  exactly  expresses  it." 

"  Don't  ypu  think,  Agnes,"  asked  Mr.  Childe 
in  a  wheedling  manner  and  slipping  along  the 
length  of  the  seat  towards  her,  "  that  it  gives  us  a 
sort  of  duty  in  the  matter  ?  " 

"  A  duty  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Fletcher,  as  if  puz- 
zled. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  the  thing  two  people  ought 
to  do  under  the  circumstances  is  to  get  married  ?  " 


254  CIPHERS. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You  and  I." 

"  You  and  I  get  married  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Agnes  Fletcher,  you  and  I  get  married." 

"  Rutherford  Cliilde,  in  all  my  life  I  never  heard 
anything  so  ridiculous." 

Mrs.  Fletcher's  soft  serenity  of  aspect  had 
changed,  a  bright  spot  appeared  on  each  cheek, 
her  eyes  were  dilated,  and  her  lips  formed  a  round 
O  of  astonishment. 

"  Come  now,"  said  Mr.  Childe,  "  I  don't  see 
anything  ridiculous  in  it.  If  ever  a  man  tried  all 
his  life  long  to  avoid  making  himself  absurd,  it  is 
I.  I  confess  it  startled  me  when  it  was  first  sug- 
gested." 

"  Who  on  earth  suggested  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Milly." 

"  She  must  have  been  joking." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  She  said  there  was  just  one 
person  in  the  world  I  longed  always  to  see,  to 
whom  I  loved  to  talk  ;  in  listening  to  whom  I  de- 
lighted, —  who  in  fact  made  my  little  happy  world 
inside  of  the  great  brutal  outside  world,  and  'so 
why  should  I  not  try  to  marry  her?  " 

"  Ah,  I  see.  I  knew  it  could  never  have  been 
your  own  idea." 

"  Indeed  it  was  my  own  idea,  —  it  had  been 
floating  over  me  all  the  time,  only,  as  it  were,  I  had 
not  grasped  it.  Milly  caught  it  and  put  it  in  my 
head." 

"A  bee  in  your  bonnet,  —  yes,  that  describes  it." 


CIPHERS.  255 

"  It  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  The 
moment  she  suggested  it  I  realized  that  the  thing 
had  actually  been  going  on  these  forty  years.  I 
remember  the  night  you  came  out.  I  sent  you 
some  flowers.  I  was  twenty-five  then." 

"  I  was  eighteen." 

"  You  wore  a  white  gown,  —  I  remember  the 
slippers  you  had  on,  so  slender,  so  pretty,  with 
large  rosettes." 

"  Good  gracious  !  I  thought  you  a  finished  man 
of  the  world.  I  considered  it  immense  condescen- 
sion when  you  asked  me  to  dance." 

"  Your  blush  was  charming.  If  you  had  not 
gone  and  got  yourself  engaged  in  two  months  our 
fates  might  have  been  very  different.  I  think  you 
owe  me  some  reparation.  I  will  give  you  a  chance. 
Say  that  you  will  marry  me,  Agnes." 

"Nonsense!  Now,  at  the  eleventh  hour?  No- 
thing would  induce  me,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

"  I  suppose  you  consider  me  too  old.  I  assure  you 
I  intend  to  live  until  I  am  ninety.  However,  per- 
haps it  is  better  not  to  offer  that  circumstance  as 
an  inducement.  There  are  accidents,  you  know.  I 
may  pop  off  the  hooks  at  any  time." 

"  I  'm  much  obliged.  I  certainly  wish  you  to 
live  as  long  as  possible,  but  I  don't  think  of  chan- 
ging my  condition,"  retorted  Mrs.  Fletcher.  "  I 
have  grandchildren  old  enough  to  laugh  at  me." 

"  Don't  think  of  those  trivial  considerations ; 
think  of  me.  Besides,  we  would  have  a  delightful 
house  for  them  to  come  to,  —  you  can  give  them  a 


256  CIPHERS. 

grandfather.  They  do  nothing  for  you.  You  are 
lonely  here." 

"  I  am  not  lonely  at  all." 

"  You  often  tell  me  you  are  lonely.'* 

"  A  woman  says  things  "  — 

"  For  example  that  she  wants  me  to  eat  a  cold 
bird  with  her  while  all  the  time  she  actually  be- 
grudges it." 

"  I  don't  mind  your  having  all  the  birds,  cousin 
Eutherford  "  — 

He  caught  her  hand  which  she  extended  in  airy 
gesture. 

"Don't  you  like  me  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  When  you  are  sensible." 

He  kissed  her  hand  with  his  best  air,  then  re- 
linquished it.  He  rose,  and  stood  with  his  back  to 
the  fire. 

"  You  are  too  sensible,"  he  said  dryly.  "  I  am 
happy  to  say  I  am  capable  of  a  few  follies  yet,  old 
fellow  that  I  am,  —  if  being  in  love  with  the  most 
charming  woman  I  have  ever  known  is  a  folly. 
However,  I  suppose  Milly  is  still  left  me.  I  '11  go 
home  and  tell  her  she  made  a  mistake." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  are  coming  to  your 
senses,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher  with  a  bright  little 
nod.  "  And  if  Milly  can  console  you,  you  are  not 
broken-hearted." 

"  Broken-hearted  !  I  don't  take  expressions  out 
of  phrase-books.  I  thank  Heaven  for  Milly.  I 
don't  suppose  I  ought  to  expect  anything  better 
than  she  can  give  me."  A  clear  note  of  submis- 


CIPHERS.  257 

sion  to  the  inevitable  was  beginning  to  be  heard  in 
his  voice.  Perhaps  it  touched  sensibilities  in  Mrs. 
Fletcher  hitherto  unstirred. 

"Do  sit  down,  cousin  Rutherford,"  she  said 
entreatingly.  "  It  afflicts  me  to  see  you  standing 
in  that  uncomfortable  way." 

"  Thanks,  but  I  am  on  the  point  of  going." 

"  I  can't  let  you  go  away  angry  with  me.  Quar- 
reling between  you  and  me  is  quite  out  of  the 
question." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  quarrel,  —  you  must  confess 
that  my  intentions  ran  in  a  very  different  direc- 
tion. But  when  a  man  is  laughed  at,  his  views 
derided  "  — 

"  You  took  away  my  breath.  Never  in  all  my 
life  was  I  so  overwhelmed  with  surprise." 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  was  an  absurd  proposition." 

"  I  did  not  actually  intend  to  say  it  was  an  ab- 
surd proposition,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher ;  "  but  I 
was  startled.  It  takes  one  a  moment  to  recover 
from  such  a  shock.  Then,  gradually  the  aspect  of 
the  thing  changes.  One  grasps  the  total  idea." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Childe  mournfully.  "  I 
went  through  all  that  when  Milly  broached  the 
subject.  Well,  let 's  forget  it  all." 

"  Oh,  so  you  were  not  really  in  earnest  about  the 
matter?" 

"  No  particular  use  for  a  man  to  be  in  earnest 
all  by  himself,  —  it  needs  two  earnest  people  in 
order  to  get  married." 

"  I  do  not  believe  you  are  at  all  broken-hearted," 
observed  Mrs.  Fletcher. 


258  CIPHERS. 

"  I  should  hope  not.  As  our  time  on  earth 
shortens,  we  are  more  and  more  anxious  to  dis- 
miss fallacies  and  accept  facts.  The  fact  proves 
to  be  that  you  won't  have  me,  Agnes  ;  so  I  avenge 
myself  on  fortune  by  becoming  a  philosopher." 

"Do  sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher  nervously. 
"  I  can't  help  thinking  that  you  are  angry  with 
me." 

He  yielded  to  her  entreaties  and  sat  down.  There 
was  nothing  implacable  in  his  mood.  Certainly, 
he  reflected,  a  second  marriage  was  no  necessity 
of  life  for  a  man,  —  it  offered  no  particular  dis- 
tinction, nor  could  it  be  said  to  be  an  infallible 
distraction  to  the  troubles  of  life. 

"  I  tell  you,  I  'm  not  angry,"  said  he.  "  Of 
course  I  'm  vexed  that  I  made  the  offer.  It  will 
be  a  disturbing  element.  You  will  always  be 
thinking  what  an  old  fool  I  was  "  — 

"  I  shall  never  think  such  a  thing,"  said  Mrs. 
Fletcher.  He  had  seated  himself  once  more  in 
the  fireplace  corner,  and  she  went  up  to  him  with 
a  cushion.  "Here,  let  me  put  this  behind  you." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  all  can  go  on  in  the  good 
old  fashion  ?  "  he  said,  looking  at  the  wonderful 
softness  of  her  eyes  and  bloom  of  her  face.  "  Do 
you  promise  to  forget  all  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  forget  it.  Are  you  comfort- 
able?" 

"  Delightfully  comfortable." 

"  Put  your  feet  up,  —  there,  lean  back." 

"  You  are  a  charming  woman,  Agues,"  — 


CIPHERS.  259 

"  I  can  see  that  you  are  glad  you  are  out  of  the 
mess." 

"  It  would  have  been  a  pudding  indeed,  if  all 
had  come  about  as  I  proposed." 

"  Rutherford  Childe,  I  do  believe  you  are  actually 
heartless." 

"  Heartless  ?  "  He  started  up.  He  caught  her 
hand.  "  By  Jove,  Agnes,"  said  he,  "  are  those 
tears  in  your  eyes  ?  Heartless  ?  I,  heartless,  — 
when  I  can't  live  without  you  ?  When,  if  you  will 
not  grant  me  the  first  place,  I  am  ready  to  take 
any  ?  When  I  have  grown  so  used  to  the  idea  of 
loving  you,  of  being  loved  by  you,  that  I "  — 

"  Rutherford  Childe,"  whispered  Mrs.  Fletcher 
between  laughing  and  crying,  "  it  is  the  most 
ridiculous  thing  I  ever  heard  of  in  my  life." 

Lunch  was  announced,  and  they  went  out  to- 
gether and  ate  the  cold  birds.  A  peculiar  hilarity 
was  evident  in  Mr.  Chjlde,  while  Mrs.  Fletcher 
seemed  to  be  afraid  to  lift  her  eyes. 


xn. 

MRS.  LEE  CHILDE  had  not  seen  Sidney  Breck 
for  some  weeks,  in  fact  had  definitely  made  up  her 
mind  she  could  never  see  him  again,  when  one 
evening  at  a  private  view  of  some  paintings  by 
American  artists,  as  she  entered  the  main  gallery, 
she  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  making  the  rounds 
with  his  hand  on  Holly  Ruff's  arm.  Her  heart 
gave  a  great  beat ;  for  a  moment  she  longed  to  rim 
away,  then  all  at  once  the  conviction  came  over 
her  that  it  was  important,  even  essential,  that  she 
should  speak  to  him  that  evening.  She  was  in  ad- 
vance of  her  party,  and  now,  rather  uncomfortably 
and  against  the  current,  led  them  to  the  left. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  buy  something,  Milly," 
Miss  Hurst  remarked.  "This  is  pretty;  I  hope 
you  will  choose  this." 

"I  have  no  idea  what  I  shall  buy,"  replied 
Milly. 

"  There  is  Mr.  Ruff.  Let  us  try  to  reach  him," 
said  Miss  Hurst.  "  He  understands  these  things 
and  will  give  us  some  ideas." 

"  That  sort  of  man  generally  knows  too  much," 
said  Mr.  Ferris.  "  I  hate  to  have  to  look  intelli- 
gent while  people  talk  a  high-art  jargon." 

"  When  Mr.  Ruff  talks,"  observed  Milly,  "  I 


CIPHERS.  261 

always  creep  as  close  as  I  can  hoping  to  pick  up 
something." 

Her  ruse  was  successful  in  the  present  instance. 
By  keeping  close  to  the  rail  with  a  pertinacity 
worthy  of  a  more  just  cause,  indeed  aided  by  the 
very  people  she  most  inconvenienced,  since  they 
recognized  her  as  a  possible  purchaser  of  the  pic- 
tures they  looked  at  with  the  most  purely  disin- 
terested admiration,  she  was  by  this  time  close 
beside  Holly  Ruff,  who,  with  a  shrug  and  shake 
of  the  head,  was  standing  erect  before  a  medium- 
sized  canvas,  which  Breck,  bending  forward,  was 
studying  eagerly. 

"  Times  were,"  Ruff  was  saying,  "  that  when  the 
brains  were  out  the  man  would  die.  Nowadays 
their  loss  seems  to  add  a  lease  of  life  to  poets, 
novelists,  even  painters." 

"  The  tints  may  want  cooking  together."  put  in 
Breck,  "  but  just  as  a  delicate  bit  of  color  —  " 

"  Nonsense ;  you  see  paint,  not  a  picture.  I 

hate  that  talk.  X ought  to  have  a  lesson. 

He  can  do  good  work,  but  he  has  decided  good 
work  does  not  pay,  so  he  does  bad  work." 

"  Evidently,"  said  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  in  his  ear, 
"you  came  to  bury  Caesar,  not  to  praise  him." 

Breck  had  already  with  a  start  recognized  her, 
and  had  plucked  at  his  companion's  arm.  It  was 
Ruff  who  flushed  most  deeply  as  Milly  gave  her 
hand  to  each  and  introduced  them  to  those  of  her 
party  to  whom  they  were  not  known. 

"  It  is  Breck  who  knows  most  about  it,"  said 


262  CIPHERS. 

Holly  Ruff,  with  an  access  of  modesty  as  lie  saw 
himself  surrounded  by  listeners.  "  To  be  a  judge 
of  pictures  one  must  have  used  colors  and  a 
brush." 

"  I  don't  see  that,"  said  Mr.  Ferris.  "  A  man 
need  not  be  a  baker  to  know  whether  bread  is 
good  or  bad." 

"  A  baker  can  tell  whether  there  is  alum  in  it." 

"  I  remember  taking  a  clever  pianist  to  hear 

Z ,"  said  Milly.  "The  music  was  exquisite, 

but  my  friend  could  not  get  over  the  fact  that 

Z used  his  first  finger  when  he  should  have 

used  his  third.  I  cared  nothing  whether  he  used 
fingers  or  thumbs,  —  not  I,  so  long  as  the  sound 
charmed  me." 

"  I  tell  Breck  he  thinks  about  the  way  the  thing 
is  produced,  not  the  sum  total  of  its  effect.  I  in- 
sist that  in  the  arts  technique  is  not  all,  although 
it  is  "  — 

Breck's  eyes  and  Milly's  had  encountered  with 
an  indescribable  glance. 

"  There  is  a  picture  I  wished  to  ask  you  about," 
she  said. 

"  A  picture  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  exhibition,  Mr. 
Ruff  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Hurst.  "  But  perhaps  you 
prefer  to  reserve  your  opinions  for  a  printed  arti- 
cle." 

"  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  impart  my  opinion 
to  the  whole  world,"  said  Ruff.  "It  is  a  very 
pretty  exhibition.  It  shows  the  characteristic  ten- 


CIPHERS.  263 

dencies  of  the  day.  There  are  few  important 
works,  and  the  most  ambitious  disclose  little  sig- 
nificance or  originality.  Nobody  seems  actually 
to  have  anything  to  say,  but  tries  to  say  nothing 
in  the  neatest  possible  manner.  Since  painters 
will  not  see  for  themselves  nor  feel  for  themselves, 
there  is  one  advantage  in  following  French  mod- 
els, for  the  French,  even  when  they  have  nothing 
to  say,  possess  the  knack  of  saying  nothing  with 
surprising  cJiic." 

Ruff,  embarrassed,  constrained,  tied  by  the  leg, 
as  it  were,  could  not  but  be  flattered  by  the  air  of 
rapt  attention  with  which  some  of  the  party  lis- 
tened to  this  disquisition,  and  he  did  not  at  first 
perceive  that  his  audience  had  lessened  by  two. 
Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Childe  had  moved  on,  and  Breck, 
with  a  slight  frown,  had  followed. 

"  Are  you  exhibiting  anything?"  she  inquired. 

"  Oh,  no,  —  that  is,  —  there  is  a  design  for  "  — 

"  Will  you  not  show  it  to  me  ?  "  She  glanced 
back  at  him  over  her  shoulder,  and  smiled. 

"  It  is  not  worth  looking  at,"  he  replied.  "  You 
spoke  of  a  picture." 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  a  picture.  I  must  have  your  ad- 
vice." 

"  Ruff  says  the  worst  things  please  me  ;  that  I 
see  high  merit  in  the  most  pitiful  good  intentions. 
I  dare  say  he  is  right.  I  think  too  much  of  the 
long  months'  work  of  men  who  ache  for  a  little 
understanding  and  sympathy.  I  dare  say  if  I  were 
in  the  concours  I  should  be  more  critical  and  less 
sympathetic." 


264  CIPHEE8. 

"  Could  we  not  sit  down  somewhere  ? "  said 
Milly,  her  eyes  fixed  on  his  face.  "  I  wished  to 
speak  about  something,  —  not  the  pictures." 

"  There  is  a  bench  in  the  little  room  where  the 
plaster  casts  are,"  suggested  Breck.  He  led  the 
way,  and  they  found  a  place  deserted  by  the  crowd. 
She  sat  down  at  once ;  he  stood  before  her  and 
looked  expectantly  at  her. 

"  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about  Miss  Rivera," 
she  said,  looking  back  at  him  with  absolute  se- 
renity. 

He  dropped  his  eyes. 

"Anita  told  me  of  your  visit,"  he  said.  "  I  can 
hardly  express  my  sense  of  your  kindness,  Mrs. 
Childe." 

"  Do  you  mean  about  the  musicale  ?  There  is 
no  kindness  in  that  enterprise.  It  is  she  who  does 
me  a  great  favor.  I  wanted  to  ask  your  consent." 

"  My  consent  ?  "     He  smiled. 

"  She  confided  to  me  that  it  was  your  wish  that 
she  should  give  up  singing." 

"  I  have  no  desire  that  she  should  give  up  any- 
thing that  makes  her  happier  ;  all  I  wish  is  to 
spare  her  disappointment  and  disenchantment." 

"  She  has  a  charming  voice.  She  has  every 
right  to  be  successful.  Think  what  it  would  be 
to  stifle  such  a  talent.  You  yourself  know  what 
it  is  to  live  half  submerged,  as  it  were  "  — 

" I ?  " —  repeated  Breck,  as  if  puzzled  —  "I  live 
half  submerged  ?  " 

"  She  is  so  young,"  pursued  Milly,  as  if  pleading 


CIPHERS.  265 

for  a  cause  on  which  all  her  heart  was  set.  "  Let 
her  have  the  chance.  Even  if  she  were  to  fail 
let  her  have  had  the  chance.  You  will  in  the  end 
lose  nothing." 

"  I  evidently  figure  to  you  as  a  monster,"  he 
said,  —  "a  monster  of  egoistic  selfishness." 

"A  man  has  a  right  to  be  selfish  towards  the 
woman  he  loves,"  pursued  Milly.  "  He  wants  his 
wife  for  his  own  fireside." 

"  You  see  me  on  the  domestic  hearth  playing 
the  part  of  tyrant,  repressing  artistic  instincts,  dis- 
cussing the  price  of  butter  and  eggs,  and  insisting 
that  the  coal  bills  shall  be  cut  down." 

Their  eyes  met,  and  both  laughed. 

"  Fools  rush  in,"  said  Milly,  with  a  little  ges- 
ture indicative  of  going  no  farther.  "  I  will  trust 
you  to  do  exactly  what  you  think  best." 

"  No  man  knows  what  a  bore  he  can  be  until  he 
becomes  a  pere  de  famille"  said  Breck.  "  But 
actually  my  only  wish  at  present  is  to  spare  Anita 
pain.  I  am  afraid  hers  is  only  a  half  talent.  She 
has  not  worked  long  enough  or  hard  enough. 
She  has  tried  to  snatch  at  one  success  after  an- 
other. It  is  bad  for  a  man  to  be  rate,  but  for  a 
woman  it  is  brutal." 

"  She  is  so  beautiful,"  said  Milly. 

"  Is  she  not  ?  "  He  laughed  as  he  spoke.  *'  I 
tell  her  it  is  enough  for  her  to  be  a  pretty  woman, 
—  that  that  after  all  is  the  rarest  gift.  But  she  re- 
torts that  whereas  as  an  artist  she  might  be  easily 
satisfied,  as  a  pretty  woman  her  wishes  are  illirai- 


266  CIPHERS. 

table,  —  that  nobody  except  a  millionaire  could 
begin  to  satisfy  her  just  demands."  He  was 
flushed,  and  his  eyes  were  too  bright,  but  a  sug- 
gestion of  humor  in  his  manner  took  away  any 
suspicions  of  serious  criticism  from  his  words. 
"  She  is  so  fond  of  pretty  things.  She  loves  pro- 
fusion. A  flower  is  not  enough,  she  insists  on 
having  a  whole  greenhouse  of  flowers.  One  new 
gown  shows  her  the  limitations  of  her  wardrobe ; 
if  she  requires  one  she  requires  twenty.  A  single 
jewel  is  nothing ;  her  taste  in  jewels  is  regal." 

"I  advise  you,"  said  Milly,  with  a  little  nod, 
"  to  encourage  her  devotion  to  art.  Why  is  she 
not  here  to-night?  " 

"  Geddes  Poorshaw  has  a  small  theatre  party 
for  Anita,  Mrs.  Hugh  Rivera,  and  another  sister 
and  her  daughter,  who  are  visiting  them.  I  was  to 
have  joined  them,  but  Anita  confided  to  me  that 
my  ticket  could  be  used  with  singular  advantage 
by  a  young  man  who  is  devoted  to  the  pretty 
young  niece  ;  accordingly,  I  am  here." 

As  he  said  these  four  words,  a  mask  seemed  to 
drop  from  his  face.  "  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you," 
he  added,  under  his  breath.  "  I  have  "  —  Some 
secret  emotion  seemed  to  have  taken  possession  of 
him,  and  it  communicated  itself  to  her.  She 
could  no  longer  look  at  him,  but  he  kept  a 
straight,  strong,  compelling  gaze  upon  her. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  murmured,  as  he 
broke  off. 

"Oh,   thank  you,   thank    you,"   he   said    fer- 


CIPHEBS.  267 

vently.  "  I  have  felt  cast  out  in  utter  darkness. 
I  ought  not  to  say  this,  but  I  will,  —  I  must  say 
it.  After  I  had  gone  away  that  night,  I  did  not 
go  far ;  I  walked  up  and  down,  —  up  and  down. 
I  had  but  one  idea." 

What  that  idea  was  —  that  she  had  confessed 
her  love  for  a  man  who  had  already  rejected  her 
for  another  woman  —  burned  in  afresh  upon  her 
consciousness,  but  she  kept  a  half  smile  upon 
her  lips,  and  said  nothing. 

"You  had  told  me  to  go  away,"  he  went  on, 
"and  at  the  moment  implicit  obedience  to  you 
seemed  my  highest  law ;  but,  the  chance  gone,  I 
realized  what  I  had  lost  by  my  cowardice.  I 
despised  myself  —  I,  a  man,  and  had  left  you ! 
A  dog,  a  dumb  brute,  would  have  stayed !  " 

The  color  flashed  to  her  face ;  she  mistook  his 
meaning  for  his  possible  meaning. 

"  Sit  down,"  she  said  nervously ;  for  he  had  not 
once  changed  his  position,  but  had  continued  to 
stand  before  her,  bending  forward,  so  that  their 
faces  were  about  on  a  level.  She  moved  slightly, 
lifting  the  wrap  she  carried,  changing  it  from  one 
arm  to  the  other.  "  One  may  as  well  take  a  little 
comfort  if  one  has  the  chance,"  she  remarked 
easily. 

"  Oh,  comfort,  comfort !  "  he  repeated  ironi- 
cally. 

"  Besides,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  which 
calls  for  a  little  heroism,"  she  proceeded ;  "  and 
for  a  moment  I  wish  not  to  be  under  your  eyes." 


268  CIPHERS. 

She  laughed  as  she  spoke.  He  seated  himself 
beside  her,  and  gazed  straight  in  front,  and  did 
not  once  turn  towards  her. 

"I  have  never  had  a  friend  in  my  life,"  she 
said,  "  and  you  see,  Mr.  Breck,  I  had  hoped  we 
were  to  be  real,  actual  friends.  When  you  fell 
away,  I  was  sorely  hurt.  I  wanted  to  explain,  but 
a  woman  —  at  least,  a  young  woman  —  cannot 
explain.  She  says  too  much ;  the  right  words 
do  not  fit  themselves  to  her  demands;  and,  car- 
ried away  by  the  feeling  of  the  moment,  she 
uses  abrupt,  obscure  expressions,  which  stand  for 
what "  — 

"  Oh,  my  God !  "  muttered  Breck.  "  I  cannot 
have  you  accuse  yourself,  —  explain  anything 
away.  Let  me  go  on  remembering  that  once 
one  of  God's  angels  came  down  and  looked  in 
my  face." 

"I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  forget  it,"  said 
Milly. 

"  Anything  else." 

"  Well,  well ;  I  feel  sure  at  least  you  wish  me 
no  ill,  so  I  can  forget  it.  Let  us  be  friends,  Mr. 
Breck,  —  real  friends." 

"  You  honor  me.     I  certainly  am  your  friend." 

"Your  marriage  will  not  hinder  our  friend- 
ship ;  quite  the  reverse.  She  is  charming.  I 
think,  in  all  my  life,  I  never  saw  a  girl  who  in- 
terested me  so  much.  She  is  almost  the  more 
charming  because,  unlike  everyday  girls,  she 
does  not  put  all  her  romance  into  her  little  per- 


CIPHERS.  269 

sonal  vanities  and  ambitions ;  she  gives  it  to  her 
music." 

"  She  is  clever,  but  crude ;  she  is  still  uncertain 
of  her  vocation ;  she  does  not  know  where  her  real 
talent  lies." 

"  Oh,  certainly  in  music,"  said  Milly  with 
energy. 

"  Evidently,  you  heard  her  on  a  good  day.  The 
unlucky  thing  is,  she  cannot  count  on  her  good 
days.  It  is  partly  because  she  does  not  realize  the 
sacrifices  one  has  to  make  for  a  talent  before  it 
gives  one  complete  happiness,  and  partly  because 
she  is  too  ardent,  too  excitable,  and  permits  her- 
self to  be  upset  by  trifles.  When  she  told  me  of 
your  wish,  I  said% '  But,  Anita,  suppose  you  should 
disappoint  Mrs.  Childe.'  And  she  shuddered, 
realizing  that  there  was  always  that  hideous  possi- 
bility of  gathering  herself  up  for  the  high  note, 
which  is  the  climax  of  the  song,  and  failing  to 
strike  it." 

"  She  will  strike  it,  —  strike  it  to  everybody's 
enchantment,"  said  Milly,  almost  at  a  loss  to  find 
reason  for  Breck's  disbelief  in  powers  which  had 
seemed  to  her  so  rare  and  so  perfected.  "You 
do  not  refuse  to  let  her  sing  at  my  musicale, 
Mr.  Breck?" 

"I  refuse?  No,  indeed;  she  shall  do  as  she 
chooses." 

"  At  present,  at  all  events,"  said  Milly,  with  a 
little,  soft  laugh. 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing,  for  her  own  sake,  that 


270  CIPHERS. 

she  should  experience  the  grand  and  final  test," 
said  he.  "It  is  a  good  thing  for  any  human 
being  to  get  at  the  pith  and  kernel  of  hard 
fact." 

"I  see,"  returned  Milly,  still  laughing,  "that 
you  wish  to  clip  her  wings.  I  feel  for  you,  but 
let  her  sing  just  this  once  or  twice.  Let  her  see 
what  gratified  ambition  is,  and  perhaps  even  her 
success  will  show  her,  better  than  defeat  could, 
that  for  a  woman  there  is  but  one  art,  —  the  art 
of  loving.  She  has  a  rich  nature,  and  when  the 
time  comes  all  will  be  subordinate  to  that.  Do 
not  thwart  her.  When  she  knows  life  better, 
she  will  understand  that  her  loss  is  a  gain, — 
that  what  you  will  offer  is  more  than  a  fair 
exchange." 

Still  Breck  looked  in  front. 

"  I  wanted  to  say  this,"  she  added,  with  evident 
effort. 

"  Thanks,"  he  replied  stififly. 

She  sat  for  a  moment  playing  with  the  fringe 
of  her  mantle,  perhaps  in  doubt  whether  she  had 
made  her  meaning  clear.  Then  it  occurred  to  her 
that  she  had  on  one  occasion  made  it  too  clear, 
and  she  made  haste  to  rise. 

"I  hope  you  will  come  to  the  musicale,  Mr. 
Breck,"  she  said.  He,  too,  had  risen. 

"I  do  not  attend  musicales,"  he  replied  in  a 
manner  which  would  have  seemed  cold  and  dull, 
had  she  not  remembered  his  kindled  face  a  few 
moments  before. 


CIPHERS.  271 

"  Oh,  you  will  coine  to  this,"  she  said,  with  per- 
sistent hopefulness.  "  We  must  go  back  to  my 
party ;  they  will  think  that  I  have  been  buying  a 
picture,  —  that  I  have  bought  a  whole  gallery  of 
pictures.  There  is  poor  Mr.  Ruff  still  discoursing 
on  art.  A  regular  Casabianca !  He  must  be  long- 
ing for  some  catastrophe  to  end  his  ordeal." 


XIII. 


MRS.  LEE  CHILDE, 

AT  HOME, 

On  Saturday,  February  the  Twenty-fourth. 
Music  at  Four  o'clock. 

STUYVBSANT  SQUARE. 


THIS  invitation  flew  about  New  York  within 
three  days,  and  it  was  understood  that  it  heralded 
the  introduction  of  a  singer,  young,  beautiful,  and 
unique  in  gifts.  Paragraphs  in  the  papers  pro- 
claimed her  to  be  a  Malibran,  a  Garcia.  Report- 
ers called  upon  Miss  Rivera;  one  solicited  her 
photograph,  and  it  was  reproduced,  in  a  style 
which  flattered  only  by  its  polite  intentions,  in  a 
Sunday  paper.  Anita  herself  was  happy  in  this 
interval.  Her  scale  of  possibilities  no  longer 
seemed  incomplete,  but  sounded  each  note  to  its 
full  power  and  sweetness.  Her  new  gown  had 
come  home,  and  was  exquisite  ;  Mrs.  Hugh  Rivera 
went  on  her  knees  before  it.  Mrs.  Lee  Childe 
was  friendly,  intimate,  caressing,  and  carried  the 
young  girl  off  day  after  day  into  a  world  all  rose 
and  azure  tinted.  Sidney  Breck  was  acquiescent. 
Geddes  Poorshaw,  a  little  abashed,  was  holding 
himself  aloof,  but  perhaps  gathering  up  his  forces 
for  a  final  blow.  The  ball  seemed  at  the  feet  of 
Anita,  who,  in  her  moments  of  highest  rapture, 


CIPHERS.  273 

had  a  practical  sense  of  the  advantages  of  her 
present  position. 

Signor  Contarini,  it  is  true,  kept  her  hard  at 
work,  growing  less  and  less  willing  that  she  should 
spare  labor  or  slur  over  any  difficulty.  He  came 
to  her  each  day  in  a  terrible  state  of  mind,  pre- 
dicting evil,  putting  his  fingers  in  her  ears  at 
the  first  note  she  sounded  ;  compelling  her  to  stop 
and  listen  to  an  exordium,  then,  pouncing  upon 
her  the  moment  her  voice  died  away  on  the  final 
note,  and,  as  it  were,  tearing  to  pieces  any  belief 
in  her  own  performance.  Not,  he  explained,  that 
he  wished  to  discourage  her ;  it  was  only  that  he 
wished  to  enforce  submission  upon  her.  The 
spirit  of  obedience  must  be  put  into  every  note 
of  her  music ;  she  must  open  her  mouth  with  an 
awful  sense  of  the  necessity  of  producing  her 
tones  in  a  way  to  throw  its  exact  duties  upon  each 
distinct  organ  concerned.  She  must  clearly  under- 
stand that  she  rested,  not  upon  her  own  powers, 
but  upon  his  guidance,  and  that  the  more  wholly 
she  trusted  to  him  the  more  gloriously  she  would 
sing.  Then,  intrenched  in  sure  knowledge  and 
strength,  she  might  find  her  forces  pliant  to  op- 
portunity, and  reach  forth  to  some  other  end  than 
that  of  attaining  mere  dull  correctness.  Yet  this 
liberty  was  to  be  sparingly  exercised,  and  always 
under  a  solemn  sense  of  special  consecration.  He 
mistrusted  her  possible  belief  in  herself. 

"  Will  that  do  ?  "  she  would  ask  him  day  by  day. 

"  Yaas,   yaas,"  he   sometimes  replied.      "  That 


274  CIPHERS. 

will  do.  I  wish  all  the  connoisseurs  in  New  York 
could  hear  you." 

But  twenty-four  hours  later  it  was  apt  to  be,  — 

"Do?  That  will  never  do.  It  was  bad.  It 
was  abominable !  It  was  incredible  !  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Contarini,"  Anita  once  exclaimed  in 
keen  disappointment,  for  she  had  believed  she  had 
executed  something  vivid,  effective,  thrilling,  "  you 
are  cruel." 

"Cruel?  cruel?"  he  returned.  "It  is  you, 
Miss  Rivera,  who  are  cruel.  It  is  to  you  I  hold 
out  my  hand  for  bread  and  you  give  me  —  a  stone. 
It  is  you  whom  I  have  warmed  at  my  fire  who  turn 
into  a  viper  and  sting  me.  I  come  to  hear  a  night- 
ingale, and  what  is  it  I  am  obliged  to  listen  to? 
An  owl,  —  an  owl  that  hoots." 

"  That  is  more  than  cruel,  —  it  is  unjust,"  Anita 
declared  with  flashing  eyes.  "  It  may  be  I  have 
taken  a  slight  cold  "  — 

"  If  you  are  to  be  a  singer  you  must  not  take  a 
slight  cold.  Where  did  you  go  last  night  ?  " 

"  To  the  opera." 

"  Ah,  yes,  to  the  German  opera.  That  is  the 
place  to  learn  to  screech,  to  sing  like  a  trumpet,  to 
strain  the  voice  till  it  is  no  voice  at  all,  but  a  tin 
pan.  You  know  I  have  forbidden  you  the  German 
opera  till  you  know  how  you  ought  not  to  sing." 

"  I  wanted  to  go  once,"  said  Anita.  "  Mr.  Poor- 
shaw  offered  Maddy  a  box  "  — 

"  And  afterwards  ?  You  ate  ices,  no  doubt,  — 
ices  at  midnight.  Is  that  the  way  to  treat  a  voice  ? 


CIPHERS.  275 

Is  an  art,  a  sacred,  a  divine  art,  to  be  played  with 
like  a  toy,  put  on  or  off  like  a  garment,  treated 
like  a  lover  with  whom  you  act  the  coquette,  — 
are  good  to  to-day,  turn  your  back  on  to-morrow  ? 
No,  it  demands  the  complete  giving  up.  You  say 
you  want  a  great  success  at  Mrs.  Childe's,  yet  you 
let  your  mind  go  this  way  and  that.  To  be  any- 
body, to  be  anything,  you  must  be  sincere,  you 
must  be  thorough,  you  must  be  narrow.  You 
think  of  too  many  things." 

"  If  I  had  only  the  one  idea  of  my  voice,  and 
particularly  after  you  scold  me,  Mr.  Contarini, 
how  could  I  summon  any  strength  or  spirit  to  sing 
at  all?" 

"If  you  wish  to  be  a  great  singer  you  must 
think  of  one  thing,  and  of  one  thing  alone." 

"You  like  to  discourage  me,"  said  Anita,  the 
tears  starting  to  her  eyes. 

"  Ah,  no  tears  !  Les  larmes  dans  la  voix  come 
not  when  you  are  weeping,  but  when  you  are  com- 
plete mistress  of  yourself.  Now  we  will  try  once 
more.  Remember  that  we  have  ears,  nerves,  a 
brain ;  that  we  know  a  voice  from  a  trumpet 
through  the  nose." 

To  hold  one's  own  against  criticism  "so  pointed, 
so  personal,  requires,  it  must  be  confessed,  not 
only  good  nerves,  but  a  singleness  of  purpose  which 
cleaves  to  its  object  like  a  limpet  to  its  rock.  And 
how  could  a  girl  like  Anita  be  wholly  under  the 
domination  of  one  meagre  idea?  How  could  she 
dare  so  to  surrender  herself,  to  fasten  to  anything 


276  CIPHERS. 

with  the  very  fibre  of  her  soul,  to  feel  with  the 
very  palpitations  of  her  life?  There  were  so 
many  voices  in  her  ears,  so  many  hands  held  out. 
And  it  was  so  essential  to  choose  the  very  best, 
and  not  dwindle  away  into  insignificance  from 
missing  her  opportunity.  In  such  a  crisis,  indi- 
vidual taste  and  personal  craving  should,  she  ar- 
gued, count  for  little. 

Certainly  she  liked  Sidney  Breck,  and  liked 
him,  too,  with  what  she  recognized  as  the  better, 
nobler,  wiser,  part  of  herself.  He  was  a  bright, 
sincere,  honorable  fellow,  and  having  asked  her  to 
marry  him,  and  not  having  been  refused,  came 
regularly  every  night  to  see  her,  brought  her  books, 
talked  quietly  and  rationally  about  her  music, 
helped  her  all  he  could,  and  seemed  always  to  keep 
the  fact  clearly  in  his  mind  that  they  two  were  to 
spend  the  rest  of  their  lives  together.  What  he 
was  now  she  could  be  certain  he  would  always  be, 
when  the  husband  had  outlived  the  lover.  While 
she  was  with  him  their  engagement  seemed  easy, 
natural,  charming,  and  the  hindrances  she  imposed 
were  of  the  sort  most  provocative  to  an  ardent 
young  fellow,  who  seemed  incapable  of  believing 
that  a  girl  who  confessed  she  loved  him  could  be 
in  earnest  about  her  individual  cravings* and  ambi- 
tions. 

"  How  little  he  knows  me !  "  Anita  would  say  to 
herself,  when  she  rose  next  morning,  the  glamour 
Breck's  presence  had  brought  wholly  departed.  It 
was  by  the  clear  light  of  day  that  Poorshaw  had 


CIPHERS.  277 

his  triumph.  To  begin  with,  the  morning  brought 
his  daily  offering  of  flowers ;  then,  a  little  later, 
he  came.  Anita  never  said  to  herself  that  this 
man  pleased  her,  yet  he  somehow  encouraged  and 
stimulated  her,  for  the  reason,  perhaps,  that  he 
looked  at  life  from  a  widely  different  standpoint 
from  that  of  Breck,  whom  nothing  contented  but 
the  pith  of  the  substance.  Poorshaw  was  not  only 
superficial  and  narrow-minded,  but  he  piqued  him- 
self upon  being  superficial  and  narrow-minded,  half 
despising  people  for  looking  too  far  into  things. 

Anita  had  often  said  to  herself  that  Poorshaw 
was  hard  and  that  he  could  be  brutal,  but  insensi- 
bly she  began  to  like  his  easy  way  of  following 
certain  estimates  and  understandings  taken  for 
granted  by  people  who  accept  the  world  as  a  place 
offered  for  their  enjoyment.  Not  but  that  she  still 
maintained  her  artistic  ambitions,  but  she  had  be- 
gun to  realize  that  when  a  woman  sets  out  to  be 
more  beautiful  and  to  have  more  luxurious  houses 
and  carriages  than  her  neighbors,  the  result  may 
be  somewhat  in  proportion  to  her  endeavors,  but 
that  when  she  enters  the  domain  of  art,  she  con- 
quers or  is  beaten,  just  as  it  happens.  This  waver- 
ing uncertainty,  whether  she  was  or  was  not  to 
witch  the  world  with  her  singing,  at  times  began  to 
seem,  as  Poorshaw  declared,  not  worth  the  candle. 
And  by  way  of  paradox,  Mrs.  Lee  Childe's  influ- 
ence was  thrown  into  the  scale  on  the  side  of  Poor- 
shaw's  suggestions  and  promises,  for  Anita,  in  pre- 
paring for  the  musicale,  went  every  day  to  Milly's 


278  CIPHERS. 

house,  in  Milly's  carriage,  and  was  waited  upon  by 
Milly's  servants.  She  liked  the  splendors  and  re- 
finements with  which  she  now  became  familiar.  "I 
call  that  ease  in  high  life,"  was  Mrs.  Hugh  Ri- 
vera's admiring  comment  upon  her  own  occasional 
glimpses  of  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  and  her  belongings, 
and  there  was  a  secret  exultation  in  Anita's  eager 
little  heart  at  the  conviction  that  this  luxury,  this 
"  ease  in  high  life,"  came  easily  to  her. 

She  told  Sidney  Breck  this  when  he  came  on 
the  evening  of  the  twenty-third,  and  he  laughed  at 
her,  declaring  that  there  was  not  a  shop-girl  in 
New  York  who  did  not  feel  that  nature  intended 
her  to  tread  on  Eastern  rugs  and  ride  in  carriages. 

"  A  good  honest  taste  for  bread  without  butter, 
and  for  walking  on  one's  two  honest  feet,  shows 
far  more  originality,"  he  added.  "  Wait  until 
you  have  been  my  wife  for  a  year,  the  sharer  of 
my  two  rooms  "  — 

"  Oh,  even  you  are  growing  luxurious  !  There 
are  to  be  two  rooms,  not  one." 

"  Yes,  my  two  rooms ;  the  cooker  of  my  por- 
ridge, the  "  — 

"  Don't  be  too  sure." 

"  Anita,  do  you  know  how  to  make  a  salad  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  my  metier  to  know  how  to  make  a 
salad.  My  business  is  to  sing." 

"  Alas,  I  wish  it  were  to-morrow  night  and  all 
well.  Not  that  I  care  a  button  about  your  being 
successful ;  but  it  kills  me  to  think  of  your  fail- 
ing again,  although  I  admit "  — 


CIPHERS.  279 

"  Well,  what  do  you  admit  ?  " 

"  That  if  you  suffer  a  regular  Humpty  Dumpty 
fall  my  course  will  be  clearer.  I  may  then  assert 
myself.  I  shall  put  on  my  boots  and  spurs  and 
take  my  riding-whip  in  hand.  I  blame  myself  for 
dawdling,  but  then  with  a  debatable  egg,  of  which 
nobody  can  tell  whether  it  is  to  hatch  into  night- 
ingale or  —  blackbird  "  — 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  not  saying  a 
crow." 

"  I  have  not  liked  to  make  the  little  final  ar- 
rangements. I  don't  say  what  will  happen  if  you 
have  a  great  success,  Anita,  but  if  you  do  not "  — 

"  You  evidently  count  with  assurance  on  my 
failure." 

"  No,  I  do  not.  But  if  you  should  by  any  chance 
happen  to  fail,  I  shall  say,  'Anita,  marry  me  in 
two  weeks.'  ' 

He  could  not  have  said  all  this  had  he  not  felt 
sure  of  touching  a  vibrating,  responsive  chord  in 
her ;  Anita  was  neither  cold  nor  dull,  and  Breck 
charmed  her.  She  glowed  like  a  gem  as  he  talked 
to  her ;  she  looked  back  at  him  laughing  and  dim- 
pling, every  glance  a  caress.  He  went  away  under 
the  glamour  left  by  his  final  clasp  of  her  light, 
pretty  figure.  She  was  to  be  his  girl-wife,  and  his 
heart  throbbed. 

"  At  least  she  loves  me,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  and  she  shall  never  find  out  that  I  do  not  com- 
pletely love  her.  At  least,  I  will  be  true  to  her." 

He  was   often   enough  angrily  indignant  with 


280  CIPHERS. 

himself  for  not  dismissing  every  other  thought  and 
accepting  the  happiness  Anita  could  give  him. 
"  Happiness,  happiness,"  he  to-night  said  moodily 
to  himself,  "  why  should  I  think  about  happi- 
ness ?  "  He  counted  over  on  his  fingers  the  men 
he  knew,  to  discover  if  any  one  of  them  was  ide- 
ally happy,  that  is,  romantically  happy.  The  only 
men  who  were  satisfied  with  their  lot  were  those 
who  were  so  hard  driven  by  daily  work  that  they 
saw  no  problems  in  life  except  how  to  get  through 
with  their  endless  task.  Holly  Ruff  was  happy  in 
a  way,  because  he  used  all  his  powers. 

"  I  shall  need  to  work,"  Breck  said  to  himself, 
putting  his  hands  into  his  pockets.  "  Anita  will 
want  all  the  money  I  can  earn,  and  likely  enough 
I  too  shall  be  happy."  That  is,  he  meant  that, 
goaded  on,  he  should  finally  forget  his  present 
ceaseless,  impetuous,  impotent  longing,  his  intense 
thirst  after  the  happiness  he  refused  to  believe  in. 

Anita  went  to  bed  almost  ready  to  starve,  feast, 
despair,  and  be  happy  with  Breck,  wrhom  she  saw 
in  the  most  attractive  colors,  and  it  was  as  if 
Poorshaw  did  not  exist  for  her.  But  next  morn- 
ing, when  she  awoke,  the  illusions  which  had  gov- 
erned her  the  night  before  fell  off  like  dead 
leaves ;  she  re-awoke  to  the  real  facts  of  life,  for 
this  was  the  day  of  days.  A  woman  cannot  think 
of  everything  at  once.  She  smiled  with  half 
amusement  to-day  to  reflect  how  dear  she  was  to 
Breck,  how  ardently  he  longed  to  have  his  ordeal 
ended.  There  is  a  fatality  about  such  a  love, — 


CIPHERS.  281 

it  was  too  ideal,  she  said  to  herself,  thinking  of 
her  actual  requisites  of  life.  She  was  glad  that  he 
was  not  to  be  at  the  musicale,  and  when  at  ten 
o'clock  she  received  a  message  from  him  saying 
that  he  was  called  to  Washington  by  the  senior 
partner,  she  breathed,  as  it  were,  more  freely. 
She  could  hardly  have  described  in  what  way  he 
hindered  her  free  play,  but  of  late  she  had  at  times 
felt  hurried,  crowded,  an  actress  of  too  many  parts. 

Milly  Childe  herself  came  for  Anita  at  one 
o'clock. 

"  How  is  the  voice  ?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Mr.  Contarini  was  here.  I  sang  the  exercises 
to  him,  and  he  was  satisfied,"  said  Anita.  "  He 
told  me  not  to  think  about  my  voice  again  to-day." 

Milly  was  in  high  spirits,  or  seemed  so.  She 
talked  all  the  way  to  her  house,  whither  she  was 
taking  Anita  to  dress  and  to  rest,  telling  her 
amusing  things,  delicately  tickling  her  vanity  with 
flatteries,  helping,  in  fact,  to  inflate  the  balloon 
which  was  to  soar  up  into  a  region  of  flame  and 
azure  a  few  hours  later.  Anita  listened,  her  heart 
throbbing.  She  liked  the  excitement,  yet  was  con- 
scious that  her  nerves  were  thrilling  from  her  in- 
tense mental  action. 

"  If  I  were  only  made  of  gutta-percha,"  she  said 
as  Milly  was  leaving  her  after  showing  her  about 
the  rooms,  where  magnificent  tropical  plants  and 
exotics  were  piled  high  in  all  the  corners. 

Milly  put  her  arms  round  the  girl  and  kissed 
her.  "  It  is  going  to  be  a  great  success,"  she  said. 


282  CIPHERS. 

"  But  after  all  what  is  success  to  you  ?  It  is 
wholly  an  outside  thing.  You  are  yourself  and 
will  continue  to  be  yourself,  and  Sidney  Breck 
cares  only  for  your  actual  self,  and  if  you  should 
not  sing  your  best  he  will  but  love  you  the  more 
dearly." 

"  He  said  last  night,"  said  Anita,  between 
laughing  and  crying,  "  that  if  I  covered  myself 
with  glory  he  should  probably  hide  his  face  dazzled 
by  my  grandeur,  but  that  if  I  failed  he  should  in- 
sist on  my  marrying  him  in  two  weeks." 

"And  do  you  want  to  marry  him  in  two  weeks, 
or  do  you  wish  to  succeed?" 

"  Do  you  ask  ?  "  demanded  Anita,  wondering  at 
the  sudden  flash  on  Milly's  face.  "I  would  not 
marry  him  in  two  weeks,  in  two  months,  in  two 
years.  That  is  what  I  feel  to-day.  I  shall  end 
by  running  away  to  the  other  side  of  the  world, 
away  from  him,  for  he  governs  me,  coerces  me, 
makes  me  seem  to  like  what  actually  I  hate." 

"I  do  not  like  to  think  my  musicale  is  to  be 
a  destiny,  a  fate,  a  providence,"  said  Milly.  She 
looked  at  the  girl  with  a  bright  penetrating  glance. 
She  would  have  added  something  which  burned  in 
her  heart  and  almost  trembled  on  her  tongue,  then 
remembered  that  Anita  was  to  rest,  to  dress  her- 
self composedly,  and  be  ready  by  four  o'clock.  So 
once  more  she  kissed  her,  and  then  shut  the  door 
on  her. 

Anita  had  no  desire  to  rest. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  destiny,  a  fate,  a  providence," 


CIPHERS.  283 

she  said  to  herself.  She  moved  up  and  down  the 
room  conscious  of  a  growing  intoxication,  yet  not 
knowing  how  to  repress  it.  Currents  of  diverse 
thoughts  and  feelings  met  within  her,  and  she  felt 
herself  reckless  of  results. 

"After  all,"  she  said  almost  audibly,  "some- 
body's heart  must  be  broken.  I  suppose  since  the 
beginning  of  the  world  a  girl  has  always  had  two 
lovers  at  once,  and  chosen  one."  She  walked  to 
the  mirror  and  looked  in  at  the  lovely  reflection. 
"Which?  "  she  said,  questioning  the  soft  ovals  of 
the  beautiful  face,  the  delicate  bloom,  the  laughing 
lips  and  eyes.  "  Do  I  love  one  better  than  the 
other  ?  At  this  moment  I  love  nobody ;  I  am  in 
love  with  myself." 

She  bent  forward  in  an  attitude  which  showed 
her  herself  in  another  mirror  at  a  right  angle. 
How  pretty  her  side  face  was,  how  becoming  the 
twist  and  knot  of  her  hair !  She  turned  her  neck 
first  one  way,  then  the  other,  and  her  beautiful 
dark  eyes  burned  like  those  of  Calderon's  Spanish 
women.  Her  gown  was  laid  out  on  the  bed,  and 
with  a  cry  of  delighted  recognition  she  ran  towards 
the  pale  blue  crepe,  with  its  neck  and  sleeves  of 
white  chiffon.  She  longed  to  see  herself  in  it ;  — 
she  glanced  at  the  little  clock,  —  there  were  twenty 
minutes  yet  before  she  needed  to  begin  dressing. 
A  white  peignoir  lay  across  the  lounge  where  she 
was  expected  to  lie  down  for  ha,lf  an  hour.  She 
had  no  inclination  for  rest,  but  put  on  the  peignoir 
in  order  to  feel  herself  into  harmony  with  the  deli- 


284  CIPHERS. 

cate  tints  of  the  room,  where  there  was  a  careful 
choice  displayed  even  in  the  placing  of  a  satin  bow 
on  a  cushion.  After  all,  this  was  the  actual  poetry 
of  life,  she  reflected ;  in  fact,  one  might  say  the 
art  best  worth  having,  that  of  living  well  with 
every  possible  appurtenance  that  can  lend  charm 
and  completeness.  And  the  comfort  of  it  was 
that  such  poetry  and  such  high  art  were  easily 
attainable  to  anybody  who  had,  say  twenty-five 
thousand  a  year,  —  from  that  upwards.  No  thrill 
of  uncertainty,  no  possibility  of  failure,  when  the 
supreme  point  aimed  at  is  to  live  in  the  handsom- 
est way,  —  if  only  one  has  money  to  pay  the  bills. 

A  pang  darted  through  the  momentary  enchant- 
ment. 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  going  to  be  nervous,"  she 
said  to  herself,  for  her  heart  had  leaped  into  her 
throat  as  the  recollection  returned  that  in  an  hour 
she  would  be  called  to  sing  before  a  crowd  of 
people.  For  a  moment  the  ordeal  seemed  terrible 
as  she  thought  of  going  forward,  every  eye  fas- 
tened upon  her.  She  was  ready  to  weep.  A  sud- 
den feeling  of  loneliness,  of  confused  wishes  and 
regrets  came  over  her ;  a  profound  envy  of  the 
luckier  people  to  whom  the  prizes  of  life  were 
awarded  without  struggle  or  competition. 

"  Am  I  turning  out  a  coward  ?  "  she  said  to  her- 
self, for  hitherto  she  had  rejoiced  at  the  task  of 
forcing  the  world  by  dint  of  hard  knocks  to  give 
her  what  she  wanted. 

A  rap  came  at  the  door.     A  maid  brought  a 


CIPHERS.  285 

glass  of  eau  sucr$e,  and  asked  if  she  could  serve 
Miss  Rivera  in  any  way.  No,  Miss  Rivera  wanted 
nothing  save  the  eau  sucree,  which  she  drank 
thirstily.  The  draught  brought  back  her  courage. 
She  was  no  longer  flushed,  but  pale.  The  blood 
was  no  longer  at  her  head ;  she  had  quieted  down 
and  determined  to  keep  her  hold  upon  herself. 
She  was  glad  that  it  was  time  to  begin  the  opera- 
tion of  dressing.  The  occupation  helped  to  ex- 
pend the  nervous  force  within  her.  Besides,  it 
was  in  itself  a  satisfying  experience  simply  to  dress 
in  this  pretty  room  where  for  almost  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  saw  herself  reflected  from  head  to 
foot.  She  smiled  at  herself,  coquetted  with  her- 
self, even  took  time  to  dance  a  few  steps  up  to  the 
laughing  image  that  also  advanced  pirouetting  as 
towards  a  possible  partner,  simply  to  exult  over 
the  elegance  of  the  trim,  high-heeled  satin  boots. 

When  at  a  quarter  before  four  Milly  looked  in 
she  found  Anita  dressed,  her  eyes  sparkling,  and 
her  cheeks  just  touched  with  rose  color.  The 
gown  was  charming ;  the  older  woman  stood  look- 
ing at  the  younger  with  her  head  on  one  side  and 
with  the  smile  of  a  connoisseur. 

"  I  wish  Mr.  Breck  could  see  you,"  she  said. 

"  I  am  glad  Mr.  Breck  is  hundreds  of  miles 
away,"  cried  Anita.  "He  is  too  humdrum,  too 
precise,  too  everyday.  I  don't  wish  even  to  think 
of  him  this  afternoon.  He  wants  me  to  fail ;  I 
fear  he  is  selfish." 

"You  spoiled  child!"  said  Milly.     She  could 


286  CIPHERS. 

have  shot  a  rejoinder  with  all  the  force  of  her 
indignation,  but  that  the  pretty  creature  must  be 
humored,  —  pampered.  She  was  conscious  of  a 
tumultuous  rush  of 'sensations.  "  Don't  you  know 
that  the  way  to  sing  is  to  feel  ?  "  she  said,  putting 
her  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder.  "Forget  your- 
self and  your  personal  ambitions ;  let  your  heart 
speak." 

"  I  do  not  dare,"  retorted  Anita,  feughing.  "  It 
is  so  important  to  keep  myself  quiet." 

"  The  people  will  be  here  presently,"  said  Milly. 
"Come  down  to  the  library.  Mr.  Contarini  will 
be  one  of  the  first,  I  suppose.  I  shall  leave  you  to 
him." 

They  went  down  the  private  stairs  together,  and 
entered  the  empty  library. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  best  for  you  to  be  alone,"  Milly 
went  on.  "I  must  go  and  speak  to  the  mu- 
sicians ;  I  have  to  speak  to  everybody.  Sit  down. 
No,  not  there;  you  may  rumple  your  muslin. 
We  women  have  to  make  these  sacrifices." 

Anita  perched  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  and 
waited.  The  twang  of  a  distant  violin  reached 
her  ears ;  she  knew  that  Mrs.  Childe  was  to  have 
a  band  playing  in  the  conservatory  while  the  peo- 
ple gathered.  The  drawing-rooms  were  lighted  as 
if  it  were  evening,  but  beams  from  the  low  sun 
blazed  here  and  there  through  the  hall  windows, 
and  broke  resplendent  upon  brass,  crystal,  and 
silver.  The  library  was  dark,  except  for  the 
bright  fire.  Now  and  then  a  coal  fell,  and  it 


CIPHERS.  287 

startled  Anita,  to  whom  each  second  appeared  an 
hour,  and  who,  in  five  minutes,  felt,  like  a  child  in 
a  dark  room,  as  if  she  must  find  a  warm,  familiar 
touch,  or  must  go  mad. 

The  band  had  begun  playing  a  nocturne  of 
Chopin's,  —  delicately  sad,  full  of  perfume,  of 
suggestion,  of  memory.  The  strains  did  not 
wholly  drown  the  sounds  of  arrivals  in  the  hall ; 
there  were  murmurs,  rustles,  voices. 

Anita  heard  some  one  coming  towards  her,  and, 
looking  up,  saw  Geddes  Poorshaw.  She  stretched 
out  both  hands  to  him. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  she  exclaimed. 
"I  had  begun  to  feel  as  if  I  must  have  some 
one  to  talk  to,  or  must  scream  at  the  top  of  my 
voice." 

"Mrs.  Lee  Childe  said  I  might  come,"  said 
Poorshaw.  "  She  sent  word  to  you  that  a  great 
lady  had  seized  Mr.  Contarini,  but  that  he  would 
be  here  presently." 

"I  do  not  care  particularly  about  Mr.  Conta- 
rini," said  Anita.  "  I  felt  myself  getting  fright- 
ened, nervous,  afraid  of  the  people.  I  am  glad 
the  band  is  playing;  the  blood  begins  to  stir  in 
my  veins  again." 

"A  woman  needs  to  be  strong  as  a  horse  to 
sing,"  said  Poorshaw. 

"  Delightful  comparison !  " 

"  True,  all  the  same." 

"  Birds  sing,  yet  are  so  frail  that  you  can  crush 
them  in  your  hand." 


288  CIPHERS. 

"  I  give  up.  You,  at  least,  are  more  like  a  bird 
than  like  a  horse ;  yet  a  horse  is  the  most  nervous 
of  animals." 

"  Except  a  woman." 

"Don't  be  nervous.  Oh,  how  I  hate  this! 
When  I  think  of  all  my  sisters,  and  aunts,  and 
cousins  out  in  the  audience  ready  to  stare  at  you, 
I  am  ready  to  cut  them  all." 

"  Can  I  pass  their  criticism  ?  How  do  I  look  ? 
Do  you  like  my  gown  ?  " 

"  Like  it  ?  Don't  you  see  I  am  keeping  myself 
under  lock  and  key,  as  it  were,  —  that  I  don't 
dare  utter  a  syllable  of  what  I  long  to  say?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  I  long  for  a  little  encouragement 
and  sympathy." 

"  Here  is  encouragement  and  sympathy  in  con- 
crete shape,"  said  Poorshaw,  still  bending  close 
over  her,  and  now  throwing  a  little  box  into  her 
lap.  "  You  told  me  once  about  a  girl  who  created 
a  perfect  furore  by  singing  in  some  drawing-room 
abroad ;  that  all  the  women  crowded  around  her 
and  pressed  their  bracelets  and  diamond  brooches 
upon  her.  I  came  prepared  to  do  the  same,  but 
may  as  well  give  you  my  little  offering  before  the 
event." 

She  uttered  a  soft  cry  as  she  tore  the  casket 
open. 

"  Oh,  how  superb !  " 

"  Put  it  at  your  throat,"  said  he ;  "  it  will  suit 
your  toilette." 

"Can  I?     May  I?     Ought  I?" 


CIPHERS.  289 

"  Of  course  you  can ;  you  may,  you  ought, 
you  might,  should,  and  must,"  said  Poorshaw, 
laughing. 

She  held  up  the  glittering  ornament  a  moment 
to  watch  the  play  of  light  across  the  facets  of  the 
six  small  diamonds  set  about  a  large  one  of  won- 
derful whiteness  and  brilliance ;  then,  with  an  air 
of  childish  contentment,  she  thrust  the  pin  through 
the  fluffy  white  frill  at  her  throat. 

"  I  ought  to  sing  well,"  she  said  triumphantly. 

"  That  everlasting  voice !  you  think  of  nothing 
else." 

"  I  dare  say  you  would  like  me  better  if  I  had 
no  voice." 

"It  would  be  a  hard  matter  for  me  to  learn 
to  like  you  better.  By  Jove,  how  that  becomes 
you!"  ' 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  myself !  " 

"  I  almost  wish  I  could  not  see  you,"  muttered 
Poorshaw. 

"  I  shall  probably  sing  the  Jewel  song ;  that  is, 
if  Mr.  Contarini  is  sure  of  my  voice,"  said  Anita. 
"  I  should  like  to  try  it  this  moment,  for"  I  know 
what  that  ecstasy  means.  I  am  fairly  tipsy  with 
delight  over  my  new  clothes  and  these  diamonds. 
Are  these  my  own,  —  my  very  own,  —  to  keep,  no 
matter  whether  I  succeed  or  fail  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  lay  that  comfort  to  heart,  —  all  that  I 
can  give  you  will  be  yours  whatever  happens." 

He  said  this  with  an  intensity  which,  even  at 
that  moment,  when  she  was  carried  away  with  a 


290  CIPHERS. 

thousand  ambitions  rolled  into  one,  burned  its 
meaning  into  her  brain.  She  did  not  reply,  for 
Mrs.  Childe  and  Contarini  had  entered,  and,  rising, 
she  ran  towards  them. 

"  She  is  too  pretty,"  said  Contarini,  striking  his 
forehead,  with  a  comic  gesture  of  despair.  "  I 
know  that  look ;  she  cannot  sing  to-day." 

"  Oh,  you  croaker,  —  you  prophet  of  evil !  " 
cried  Anita  in  the  highest  spirits.  "  I  am  going 
to  sing  beautifully.  I  am  so  happy,  so  delighted 
with  myself ;  I  am  certain  I  shall  sing  as  I  never 
sang  before." 

Milly  had  beckoned  Poorshaw  aside.  She  had 
observed  his  look,  his  attitude ;  and  her  quick  eye 
had  discerned  as  well  the  new  flash  of  diamonds 
at  Anita's  throat. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  "for  filling  up  the 
tedium  until  Mr.  Contarini  came ;  but  I  suppose 
that  now  he  will  have  a  thousand  last  orders  to 
give.  He  is  horribly  nervous  about  her  voice." 

"I  always  tell  her  she  ought  not  to  care  a 
button  whether  she  sings  well  or  not,"  said  Poor- 
shaw. "  A  beautiful  girl  like  her  has  other  strings 
to  pull." 

Milly  gave  him  an  arch  glance.  "  I  wonder  if 
you  are  yet  aware  that  this  beautiful  creature  is 
actually  engaged,"  she  said  lightly. 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Mrs.  Childe,  that  if 
I  can  compass  it,  I  intend  that  she  shall  shortly 
be  actually  engaged  to  me.  I  have  been  waiting 
until  this  excitement  is  over." 


CIPHERS.  291 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  anybody's  keeper,  but 
I  am  Miss  Rivera's  chaperon  to-day,  and  I  think 
I  ought  to  tell  you  she  is  engaged  to  marry  Mr. 
Sidney  Breck." 

"  You  are  quite  mistaken  ;  they  are  old  friends. 
I  dare  say  she  flirts  with  him.  She  is  a  born 
coquette  "  — 

"  A  born  coquette,  very  likely ;  but  Mr.  Breck 
was  before  you,  and  he  loves  her,  —  rests  upon  his 
expectation  of  marrying  her.  You  are  too  honor- 
able and  too  good-hearted,  Mr.  Poorshaw,  to  rob 
him  of  the  girl  he  loves,  —  to  tempt  her  with 
magnificent  gifts." 

She  was  conscious  of  the  savage  gleam  in  his 
eyes.  "However,"  she  went  on,  "people's  love 
affairs  are  not  at  present  my  concern.  What  I 
must  do  is  to  make  this  affair  pass  off  well."  She 
went  to  the  door  and  called  Mr.  Norreys,  whom 
she  saw  standing  at  a  little  distance,  perhaps  com- 
bating certain  memories  which  in  that  house  rose 
and  looked  him  in  the  face.  "  Mr.  Norreys,"  she 
said  in  a  wheedling  tone,  "  I  want  this  affair  to 
go  off  in  just  the  right  way.  It  is  not  a  concert 
with  the  audience  in  rows,  you  know,  but  presently 
a  pianist  is  to  come  out  and  play  one  of  Liszt's  fan- 
tasias. That  is  to  be  the  signal  for  everybody  to 
sit  down ;  that  is,  half  a  dozen  men  will  bring  in 
chairs,  and  people  can  at  least  have  the  opportu- 
nity of  sitting  down.  Next,  there  is  to  be  a  duo 
for  a  violin  and  the  piano ;  and,  finally,  Miss 
Rivera  is  to  be  led  in  to  sing  to  us.  Let  me 
introduce  you  to  Miss  Rivera." 


292  CIPHERS. 

Mr.  Norreys  pressed  forward  with  his  best  air. 

"Mr.  Norreys  is  to  lead  you  in,"  Mrs.  Childe 
said  to  Anita.  "  Whatever  Mr.  Norreys  does  suc- 
ceeds, so  I  am  begging  him  to  throw  his  ffigis  over 
you.  Now  this  is  my  idea :  When  the  first  song 
is  over,  there  will  be  some  applause,  and  then, 
under  that  inspiration,  a  second  song ;  and  after 
the  second  song  I  want  an  interlude.  Everybody 
must  be  presented  to  Miss  Rivera,  and,  Mr.  Nor- 
reys, I  appoint  you  master  of  ceremonies." 

Mrs.  Childe  went  back  to  her  guests,  leaving 
Mr.  Norreys  flushed  with  a  sense  of  his  responsi- 
bilities. Perhaps,  who  knows,  he  experienced  the 
hope  that,  grown  wiser,  Mrs.  Lee  Childe  was  re- 
lenting, now  that  she  found  out  her  actual  need  of 
him.  At  least,  from  this  moment,  he  threw  the 
whole  might  of  his  influence  into  the  scale,  deter- 
mined to  achieve  a  success  for  Milly  Childe's 
protegee. 

The  hostess  returned  to  her  guests,  moved  about, 
skillfully  grouping  the  right  people  near  the  rear 
drawing-room,  the  floor  of  which  was  raised  a  few 
inches.  The  band,  which  had  been  playing  Cho- 
pin's waltzes  and  nocturnes,  ceased.  The  pianist 
appeared,  bowing,  near  the  grand  piano,  and  each 
person  looked  about  for  the  most  comfortable  seat 
attainable.  How  charming  it  was !  was  the  excla- 
mation on  all  sides.  What  a  happiness  to  be  freed 
from  the  gene  of  a  concert  room.  Here  one  could 
listen  and  feel,  —  that  is,  one  could  listen  without 
feeling,  experiencing  simply  comfort  and  the  plea- 


CIPHERS.  293 

sure  of  watching  one's  friends  seat  themselves, 
arrange  their  attitudes  and  their  draperies,  put 
on  a  serious  air  of  intense  appreciation,  and  then 
lose  one's  self  in  a  reverie  from  which  one  only 
emerged  at  the  close  of  the  performance.  Milly 
herself  suffered,  and  turned  hot  and  cold  by  turns, 
fighting,  as  it  were,  with  a  nightmare,  while  assum- 
ing smiles,  nods,  and  the  rest  of  it.  She  was  in 
no  mood  to  resign  herself  to  the  melodious  passion 
of  the  duet,  but  was  intensely  eager  to  have  the 
introductory  part  over  and  to  see  Anita  advance. 
And  at  last  she  was  led  out ! 

Mr.  Norreys  had  arranged  the  small  effects  like 
the  consummate  master  of  details  that  he  was.  As 
the  young  singer  came  forward  everybody  was 
startled  by  her  beauty.  What  youth  !  What  dis- 
tinction !  What  charm !  She  was  supported,  too, 
by  Mrs.  Bernard-North,  Mrs.  Fletcher,  and  Mrs. 
Crooke  Poorshaw,  —  just  the  setting  to  enhance 
the  worth  of  a  brilliant  whose  actual  market  value 
has  not  yet  been  tested. 

Anita  advanced,  hesitating  and  timid,  and  stood 
with  her  delicate  ardent  face,  her  charming  figure, 
her  spontaneous  youthful  grace,  detached,  as  it 
were,  from  her  surroundings,  —  a  picture  complete 
in  itself.  She  seemed  to  notice  no  one ;  not  a 
blush  came  to  her  cheek,  not  a  quiver  to  her  lips. 
Yet  how,  in  spite  of  this  very  repose,  fire  and  rest- 
lessness burned  through  her  as  a  flame  through 
crystal !  Milly 's  own  sensations  seemed  heightened 
to  agony  by  her  instinct  of  the  intense  feeling  in  the 


294  CIPHERS. 

girl.  Contarini  was  to  play  the  accompaniments. 
She  was  to  begin  with  Mignon's  song.  Milly 
scarcely  breathed  while  it  was  gone  through  note 
by  note.  Anita  had  sung  it  to  her  the  day  before, 
making  the  poetry  and  charm  of  it  vivid,  bringing 
her  face  to  face  with  the  sad,  passionate  soul  of 
Mignon.  To-day,  instead  of  a  heart  full  to  over- 
flow of  intensest  music,  and  a  bird's  impulse  to 
pour  it  out  in  rapture,  it  seemed  to  Milly  that  the 
girl  was  a  mere  mechanical  puppet.  However,  it 
was  evidently  the  mistake  of  her  own  jealous,  crit- 
ical ears,  which  listened  with  senses  strained  be- 
yond their  limit,  for  the  moment  Anita  paused  an 
irrepressible  outburst  of  applause  burst  forth. 
Milly  heard  from  every  lip  with  surprise  and  de- 
light, "  Marvelous  !  "  "  What  a  bird-like  quality, 
yet  what  feeling  !  "  "  And  so  young,  you  say !  " 

Milly  caught  at  the  phrases  with  sudden  rapture. 

"  And  is  she  not  lovely  ? "  she  said,  beaming. 
"  She  is  descended  from  a  French  marquis  who 
emigrated  to  Porto  Rico  during  the  Terror.  One 
sees  the  French  look  in  her  forehead." 

This  was  all  that  had  hitherto  failed.  Milly 
said  it  to  her  next  neighbor,  her  next  neighbor 
passed  it  on.  Twenty-two  people  knew  the  de- 
lightful fact  before  a  "  Hush  "  ran  round,  with  the 
intimation  that  the  descendant  of  the  French  mar- 
quis was  to  sing  again.  Although  the  sincere  in- 
dividual judgment  had  been  that  Anita  sang  very 
well,  the  impression  had  needed  to  be  fixed  in  or- 
der to  make  itself  actually  felt.  Now  eyes  had  seen, 


CIPHERS.  295 

ears  heard,  and  the  heart  of  each  woman  conceived 
the  idea.  Anita  in  her  second  and  more  ambitious 
aria  was  listened  to  with  a  sure  admiration  which 
rose  into  a  crescendo  of  rapture  to  its  irresistible 
climax,  although  instead  of  striking  and  sustain- 
ing her  voice  on  G  sharp,  as  it  was  her  intention 
to  do,  she  encountered  and  lingered  on  the  wrong 
note.  Hearing  this,  both  Contarini  and  Milly  bent 
themselves  double,  crushed,  stricken,  suffering,  as 
if  never  to  rise  again. 

"  Oh,  hopeless,  hopeless,  hopeless,"  said  Milly  to 
herself.  "  He  was  right.  She  is  not  a  musician, 
not  an  artist.  She  sings  well  only  by  a  lucky  op- 
portunity." It  flashed  through  her  mind  that  she 
had  exposed  Anita  to  this  terrible  mortification, 
this  cruel  reverse.  She  did  not  dare  once  to  raise 
her  eyes  until  the  last  note  of  the  song.  The  end  of 
things  had  come,  she  felt,  and  her  brain  was  busy 
in  concocting  verbal  plausibilities,  explanations, 
apologies. 

But  in  another  moment  all  the  guests  had  risen 
as  by  a  preconcerted  plan.  Milly  had  missed  a 
tableau.  Mrs.  Crooke  Poorshaw,  who  had  a  lively 
soul  and  was  passionately  fond  of  whatever  she 
liked,  had  darted  forward  and  embraced  Anita. 
Mrs.  Bernard-North  had  followed  suit,  each  mem- 
ber of  the  nearest  group  pressed  close  with  felici- 
tations, and  to  have  been  cool  and  critical  at  such 
a  moment  would  have  been  to  commit  an  absolute 
rudeness.  Anita  had  had  her  unhappy  moment. 
Then  Mrs.  Crooke  Poorshaw  had  embraced  her, 


296  CIPHERS. 

and  the  spring  of  her  felicity  was  proportioned  to 
the  depth  of  her  interval  of  despair.  She  gave  a 
sigh  of  relief  as  her  bent  and  crushed  forces  re- 
gained their  equipoise.  She  looked  not  only 
happy,  but  ravished  with  happiness  when  Milly 
went  up  to  her.  She  was  on  a  pinnacle,  but  it  was 
the  pinnacle  of  which  she  had  so  long  dreamed 
that  she  took  it  gracefully.  Compliments  buzzed 
about ;  not  finding  the  ear  of  the  young  queen, 
those  outside  the  inner  circle  echoed  to  each  other 
the  phrases  current  among  the  initiated,  who  had 
always  something  felicitous  to  say  at  the  right  mo- 
ment. 

Contarini  had  retreated  into  a  corner,  where  he 
glared  wrathfully.  Milly  went  up  to  him. 

"  I  wash  my  hands,"  he  said  with  a  practically 
illustrative  gesture.  "  I  wash  my  hands." 

"  I  was  horribly  afraid  she  was  doing  badly," 
said  Milly  ;  *'  but  all  these  people  seem  to  think  "  — 

"  All  these  people,  —  I  care  not  if  it  is  one 
tousand,  ten  tousand  people !  /  know  that  Miss 
Rivera  made  a  fool  of  herself.  I  see  now  that  it 
is  all  no  use,  —  she  cannot  sing.  It  was  my  fool- 
ish hope,  my  mad  vanity,  to  make  a  genius  where 
there  is  no  genius  at  all.  She  is  quick,  clevaire, 
and  three  days  out  of  the  seven  she  has  a  voice. 
But  the  other  four  days !  then  she  is  a  different 
sort  of  a  bird.  I  have  thrown  away  time,  I  have 
thrown  away  money,  I  have  thrown  away  deep 
feelings  of  my  heart  on  this  ill-justified  ambition. 
Oh,  useless  flapping  of  the  wings  when  it  is  a  mere 


CIPHERS.  297 

barnyard  fowl,  —  no  divine  bird  with  power  to 
soar  into  the  heaven." 

Milly  listened  with  doubt  and  amazement. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Contarini,"  she  said  deprecatingly, 
"  she  can  sing  so  beautifully  at  times.  Yesterday, 
now,  how  sure  we  felt  of  her." 

"The  fault  is  in  herself,"  Contarini  returned. 
"  She  is  made  of  another  stuff  from  an  artist.  I 
wash  my  hands,  I  shake  the  dust  off  my  feet. 
I  have  no  more  time,  no  more  strength,  no  more 
heart  to  waste  on  fiascos,"  and  in  spite  of  Milly's 
entreaties  he  walked  straight  out  of  the  house, 
leaving  Anita  to  her  fate. 

Anita's  fate,  however,  seemed  not  to  be  depend- 
ent on  Signer  Contarini.  She  held  her  fate  in  her 
own  little  white  hands.  She  was  entreated  to  sing 
again,  and  when,  after  the  Italian  could  nowhere 
be  found,  Milly  suggested,  "  Perhaps  you  can  play 
your  own  accompaniments,"  Anita,  with  apparent 
timidity,  with  blushes,  with  half-frightened,  lovely 
eyes,  sat  down,  and  played  and  sang  song  after 
song.  It  was  delightful  to  watch  the  transfor- 
mation of  the  charming  child  to  a  woman.  Her 
natural  grace  carried  her  through  even  when  she 
bungled,  for  she  had  the  instinct  to  turn  back  to 
a  friend,  to  reinforce  herself  by  fresh  aid,  in  a 
word,  to  put  charm  and  coquetry  into  the  mis- 
chance. 

If  Milly  had  been  for  a  time  wretched  with  the 
sickening  conviction  that  the  singer  had  failed, 
the  tension  of  her  mood  gradually  relaxed.  Anita 


298  CIPHERS. 

evidently  did  not  mourn.  Was  it  that  she  rose 
secure  against  apprehension  of  failure,  soothing 
her  nerves  and  satisfying  her  ambition  with  the 
belief  that  love  was  enough  ?  Or  was  it  that  she 
was  after  all  a  mere  charlatan,  accepting  a  cheap 
success,  and  floating  blissfully  on  the  flattery  of  a 
roomful  of  people  who  liked  a  new  sensation  ? 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Childe,"  said  Anita,  clinging  to 
Milly,  when,  her  ovation  over,  she  was  going  away, 
"  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life.  I  can't  thank 
you  enough,  I  never'  expected  to  be  quite  so 
happy." 


XIV. 

THE  next  day  at  three  o'clock  Milly  knocked  at 
the  door  of  Mrs.  Hugh  Rivera's  apartment,  and 
was  admitted  by  Miss  Rivera  herself,  who,  on  see- 
ing her,  exclaimed  with  dismay,  — 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Childe  !  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Milly  anxiously.  "  I  have 
been  expecting  you  all  the  morning,  and  not  seeing 
you  felt  restless  and  tormented,  and  accordingly  as 
soon  as  luncheon  was  over  set  out.  You  are  not 
ill." 

She  took  the  girl's  hands  and  looked  into  her 
face,  seeing  an  expression  there  she  was  puzzled  to 
divine :  at  once  saucy  and  frightened,  tremulous 
and  triumphant. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  was  never  so  well  in  all  my  life," 
said  Anita.  She  drew  her  visitor  inside  and  closed 
the  door.  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you,"  she  went  on, 
laughing  and  blushing,  "that  I  am  a  little  bit 
afraid  of  you.  Indeed,  I  have  just  sent  Mr.  Poor- 
shaw  to  break  a  piece  of  news." 

"A  piece  of  news  ?  Mr.  Poorshaw  ?  "  repeated 
Milly  as  if  incredulously. 

"  I  have  promised  to  marry  that  individual," 
explained  Auita,  still  laughing.  "  You  see  I  make 
it  no  secret.  His  sister-in-law  brought  me  home  in 
her  carriage  last  evening,  you  may  remember,  and 


300  CIPHERS. 

when  I  entered  this  room  here  he  was  waiting  for 
me.  He  had  come  by  train.  He  declared  that 
he  was  tired  of  shilly-shallying,  —  that  he  had  not 
wished  to  assert  himself  until  the  musicale  was 
over,  but  now  that  it  was  over  he  must  have  his 
answer." 

"And  you  promised  to  marry  him  ?  "  said  Milly 
in  a  low,  but  indignant  voice.  "Although  you 
were  engaged  to  Sidney  Breck  you  promised  to 
marry  Geddes  Poorshaw  ?  " 

"  He  spoke  at  the  right  moment,"  said  Anita. 
"  I  had  come  from  fairyland  into  this  dull,  every- 
day life,  and  I  was  already  longing  to  go  back  to 
fairyland.  He  gave  me  the  chance.  '  You  see 
now  what  sort  of  a  career  I  can  offer  you,'  he  said. 
4  Marry  me  at  Easter ;  we  will  go  to  Europe,  and 
next  season  I  will  bring  you  back  to  New  York, 
and  the  ball  shall  be  at  your  feet  just  as  it  was  to- 
night.' He  explained  that  my  success  yesterday 
was  after  all  a  sort  of  accident ;  but  that  it  showed 
what  I  could  do  with  a  secure  footing  of  my  own  in 
society." 

"  Have  you  no  heart  ? "  said  Milly,  with  a 
straight  gaze  into  the  girl's  face.  "  Have  you  no 
feeling,  no  apprehension  of  what  you  are  doing  ?  " 

Anita  did  not  blush,  but  said  with  a  slight  ges- 
ture of  concession,  "  I  knew  you  would  take  it 
to  heart.  That  was  the  reason  I  begged  Geddes 
to  go  and  see  you  to-day." 

"  You  were  engaged  to  a  man  who  loves  you," 
cried  Milly,  —  "a  noble,  charming,  clever  man, 


CIPHERS.  301 

who  loves  you  !  Do  you  know  what  an  experience 
that  is  for  a  woman  ?  It  will  not  happen  twice  to 
you." 

"  I  always  insisted  that  I  was  not  absolutely  en- 
gaged to  Sidney  Breck,"  said  Anita  with  spirit. 
"  But  I  am  now  engaged  to  a  man  who  loves  me, 
who  worships  me  even,  and  has  the  power  to  lav- 
ish everything  upon  me.  He  may  not  be  wonder- 
fully clever  or  charming,  but  he  can  offer  me 
everything." 

Milly  smiled  with  a  touch  of  irony  in  her  ex- 
pression. "Oh,  I  have  seen  Geddes  grow  up," 
she  said.  "  Geddes  is  a  sort  of  cousin."  She 
checked  herself,  and  her  disdain  warmed  into  sym- 
pathy. "  Oh,  child,"  she  went  on,  taking  a  step 
forward,  "  I  feel  as  if  you  were  making  a  mistake. 
Can  it  be  that  you  were  disappointed,  disenchanted 
yesterday  ?  Perhaps  you  were  wounded  by  Mr. 
Contarini's  desertion.  It  seemed  to  me  cruel  that 
he  should  go  away." 

Anita  uttered  a  little  bubbling  laugh,  half  like 
a  sob.  "  I  knew  I  broke  his  heart,"  she  said.  "  I 
saw  his  head  go  down  when  I  struck  that  note 
sharp,  and  for  a  moment  I  felt  as  if  the  end  of 
things  had  come.  Everything  whirled  round.  I 
was  surprised  at  myself  for  going  on  with  the  song, 
and  really  finishing  up  quite  creditably.  Nobody 
however,  could  have  been  more  surprised  than  I 
was  at  first,  to  find  myself  in  that  seventh  heaven, 
flattered,  accepted,  made  a  queen  of.  I  was  amused 
afterwards  when  Mrs.  Poorshaw  told  me  she  knew 


302  CIPHERS. 

nothing  of  music  except  through  her  emotions." 
She  paused  a  moment  and  looked  at  her  visitor 
with  a  pleading  smile.  "  When  one  cannot  have 
what  one  wants,"  she  pursued,  "  one  takes  up  with 
what  one  has.  I  am  tired  of  beating  the  air  with 
my  wings  and  not  flying.  I  admit  myself  dis- 
mayed by  the  difficulties  of  an  artist's  career.  I 
am  going  to  take  up  a  new  profession." 

"  It  must  have  been  in  your  mind  all  the  time 
yesterday,"  said  Milly  in  a  suffering  voice.  "  You 
had  on  his  diamonds." 

"  I  see  now,"  said  Anita  lightly,  "  that  it  really 
has  been  in  my  mind  a  good  while.  Probably  the 
diamonds  settled  my  fate  for  me." 

A  silence  fell  between  them  ;  then  Milly  began 
hesitatingly,  — 

"  Have  you  "  —  but  she  broke  off,  growing  scar- 
let. 

"  Have  I  told  Sidney  Breck  ?  "  said  Anita. 
"  Yes,  I  wrote  to  him  last  night.  He  is  in  Wash- 
ington, but  no  doubt  had  the  letter  this  morning." 
She  was  asserting  her  imperious  self-willed  person- 
ality against  the  rebuke  in  Milly's  clear,  scornful 
eyes,  and  strengthened  herself  every  moment. 
"  He  is  not  so  selfish  but  that  he  will  be  glad  to 
have  me  do  the  best  I  can  for  myself,"  she  went 
on.  "  He  knows  that  I  am  ambitious,  extrava- 
gant, that  I  hate  everything  dull,  tame,  and  medi- 
ocre. He  would  never  take  me  quite  seriously 
when  I  insisted  on  my  own  fastidiousness  ;  now  he 
will  understand  that  I  was  in  earnest.  I  wanted 


CIPHERS.  303 

to  be  rich  and  great.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  ever 
cared  very  much  about  art.  It  was  simply  a 
means.  What  most  people  call  living,  —  the  me- 
chanical rotation,  the  everlasting  coming  back  of 
the  same  duties,  —  I  loathe.  If  I  married  a  man 
who  was  poor  and  obscure,  I  should  simply  pass 
my  days  in  feeling  unsatisfied  cravings,  miserable 
jealousy  and  anger." 

Milly  listened  with  a  feeling  almost  as  if  the 
props  of  her  universe  had  fallen.  Her  impulse 
was  to  get  away  and  find  out  what  had  happened 
to  give  her  this  blow.  She  said  a  few  words  more 
to  the  girl,  kissed  her,  then  took  leave,  her  brain 
still  whirling,  still  repeating  the  charge  that  the 
girl  was  false,  the  girl  was  cruel.  Had  she  no 
heart  ?  Breck  had  loved  her  and  he  would  suffer. 
A  great  horror  came  iipon  Milly's  mind  at  the 
thought  of  his  suffering,  almost  like  remorse  for 
some  misdeed  of  her  own.  She  had  to  close  her 
eyes  on  the  agonizing  vista  of  Breck's  loss  of  hope, 
—  loss  of  belief. 

Then  by  turns  she  was  angry  with  the  girl,  and 
it  braced  her  like  a  tonic  to  say  that  Anita  would 
suffer  for  her  stupid  vanity,  her  senseless  egotism, 
her  belief  that  everything  in  the  system  of  the  uni- 
verse was  created  in  order  to  pay  her  homage ; 
that  men  were  to  be  bidders  against  each  other  for 
possession  of  this  inestimable  jewel !  She  knew 
her  own  value,  —  with  quick  wit  she  had  taken  the 
suitor  who  possessed  solid  cash.  Poorshaw  was 
certain,  however,  to  make  a  good  bargain  for  him- 


304  CIPHERS. 

self,  —  a  hard  man,  with  the  physique,  nerves,  and 
brain  of  an  athlete,  with  the  habit  of  domina- 
tion, governing  everything  and  everybody  whom  he 
lived  with,  and  resolutely  declining  to  live  with 
anybody  or  anything  he  did  not  govern.  Perhaps, 
however,  each  would  meet  his  or  her  match  in  the 
other,  Milly  finally  said  to  herself,  remembering  the 
fire  in  Anita's  eyes.  Gradually  the  inclination  died 
away  which  had  at  first  prompted  her  to  go  back 
to  Anita,  to  put  her  arms  about  her,  to  implore  her 
to  reconsider,  to  say,  "  We  are  both  women,  and  I 
am  an  older  woman  than  you  are,  and  I  know  what 
you  will  gradually  find  out,  that  any  one  of  us 
born  a  woman  is  born  a  foolish  child,  —  always 
to  be  a  child,  with  a  heart  longing  for  love,  for 
tenderness,  for  a  kind  hand  to  clasp  and  trust  to. 
A  woman's  fate  is  made  for  her  by  the  man  she 
accepts.  Oh,  think  what  you  are  exiling  yourself 
from." 

This  impulse  passed  away  and  what  she  did  in- 
stead was  to  order  an  afternoon  tea-service  for 
Anita's  wedding  present,  and  then  to  leave  town, 
promising  to  come  back  in  April  for  her  father-in- 
law's  marriage.  She  went  to  her  house  in  Berk- 
shire, but  late  in  March  was  called  to  her  uncle  in 
New  Hampshire,  who  was  failing  and  asked  to  see 
her.  She  stayed  with  him  until  his  death,  which 
happened  just  before  Mr.  Childe's  wedding  day  ; 
thus  Milly  could  not  attend  the  nuptials.  It  was 
said  in  New  York  that  she  would,  as  soon  as  the 
pressing  business  connected  with  her  uncle's  great 


CIPHERS.  305 

estate  was  settled,  go  to  Europe  for  the  summer. 
But  instead  she  returned  to  the  house  among  the 
hills  for  which  Sidney  Breck  had  once  partly  de- 
signed a  new  wing.  The  house  was  already  large 
enough,  with  more  rooms  than  Milly,  even  in  her 
present  mood  of  restless  inactivity,  cared  to  walk 
through.  It  stood  high,  surrounded  by  lawns,  gar- 
dens, and  a  house-farm,  facing  the  west,  and  over- 
looked a  wooded  valley  through  which  a  stream 
meandered.  To  the  north  and  east  rose  the  hills, 
solemn  ridges  dominating  gorges,  deep  ravines, 
and  a  little  lake.  Towards  this  lake  a  moun- 
tain brook  rippled  singing  with  a  sweet  impetuous 
voice  in  its  descent,  and  in  one  place  flung  itself 
boldly  over  a  precipice,  looking  midway  like  a  veil 
of  fine  gauze  floating  in  the  air.  To  this  waterfall 
Milly  was  in  the  habit  of  walking  in  the  long  quiet 
afternoons  with  her  dogs,  and  one  day,  just  at  the 
end  of  June,  she  was  setting  out,  and  had  reached 
the  foot  of  the  grounds,  when  the  dogs  gave  a  sud- 
den sharp  bark,  and  she  heard  a  step  behind  her. 

She  turned  and  saw  Sidney  Breck  dashing  down 
the  slope,  and  when  he  reached  her  he  was  breath- 
less. 

"They  told  me  you  had  left  the  house  but  a 
moment  ago ;  they  offered  to  send  for  you,  but  I 
8aid  "  —  This  he  faltered,  as  soon  as  he  was  near 
enough  to  speak. 

She  was  laughing  at  his  haste  and  at  his  eager- 
ness. His  hat  had  tumbled  off,  and,  regaining  it, 
he  had  not  put  it  on,  and  his  hair  was  tossed 


306  CIPHERS. 

about ;  his  eyes  were  full  of  light,  his  cheeks  were 
flushed,  and  his  lips  were  smiling.  He  was  in  a 
knickerbocker  suit  of  gray  tweed,  and  carried  a 
knapsack  slung  across  his  shoulder. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Milly.  "  Where 
did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  walking  through  Berkshire  Coun- 
ty," said  Breck.  "  It  is  only  by  the  merest  chance 
that  I  am  here.  Please  understand,  Mrs.  Childe, 
that,  as  it  were,  I  have  stumbled  upon  you." 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  said  Milly.  "  I  hoped  you  had 
come  to  build  my  wing.  Not  a  day  passes  but  I 
look  at  that  side  of  the  house,  and  think  of  that 
wonderful  chimney,  those  gables  "  — 

"Have  you  had  any  sort  of  presentiment  I 
might  come  ?  "  inquired  Breck. 

"  Not  a  single  presentiment." 

"  Surely  you  have  fancied  I  might  come,"  he 
said  in  a  wheedling  tone. 

"  I  have  no  fancies,"  replied  Milly ;  "  no  fancies 
whatever." 

The  dogs,  at  first  impatient  and  restless  at  this 
delay,  had  fawned  imploringly,  but  now  crouched 
quiescent,  gazing,  with  lolling  tongues,  at  the  two. 

"Well,"  said  Breck,  "it  had  occurred  to  me 
that  you  had  a  place  in  Berkshire  County,  but  I 
did  not  know  what  corner  of  the  county  it  might 
be  in.  I  heard  in  May  that  you  were  going  to 
Europe ;  but  it  was  borne  in  upon  my  mind,  es- 
pecially as  I  made  a  point  of  looking  through 
every  steamer  passenger  list,  that  you  were  not  in 


CIPHERS.  307 

Europe,  but  here.  So  you  see  I  had  a  distinct 
presentiment  that  I  might  find  you." 

"  I  am  glad  you  had,"  said  Milly  frankly. 

"  And  now  that  I  see  you,"  Breck  went  on,  "  I 
seem  all  my  life  to  have  dreamed  of  seeing  you 
just  here,  with  the  golden  twigs  and  stems  and 
leaves,  and  solemn  tree  trunks  behind  you,  the 
shimmering,  beautiful  afternoon,  the  dogs  at  your 
feet,  the  white  gown  you  have  on,  the  broad- 
brimmed  hat.  It  is  like  enchantment." 

"  Had  you  not  better  leave  your  knapsack,  and 
go  to  walk  with  me  and  the  dogs?"  she  asked, 
not  meeting  his  eyes.  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rutherford 
Childe  are  to  arrive  at  seven  o'clock  to-night,  and 
so  I  can  ask  you  to  stay." 

"  I  have  not  come  to  stay,"  said  Breck ;  "  I 
have  come  to  tell  you  something.  I  wanted  to 
tell  it  quickly,  forcibly,  —  without  preamble,  —  and 
then  go  on.  I  see  now  that  my  ideas  were  a  little 
dramatic.  I  did  not  want  you  to  feel  that  I  had 
forced  myself  upon  your  solitude.  Yet  my  days 
and  nights  are  full  of  you,  —  I  can  think  of 
nothing:  else :  and  ever  since  Anita  broke  her 

O  * 

engagement  to  me,  I  have  wished  to  tell  you 
how  it  happened  that  I  had  ever  asked  her  to 
marry  me." 

"  Surely,"  said  Milly  earnestly,  "  you  loved  her ; 
that  was  the  way  it  happened.  I  do  not  wish  to 
hear  of  any  possible  perfidy." 

"  If  she  had  been  true  to  me,"  Breck  went  on 
quietly,  "  I  would  have  held  myself  to  every  obli- 


308  CIPHERS. 

gation  which  bound  me  to  her ;  but  that  was  all 
over  long  ago.  I  went  to  her  wedding,  and  wished 
her  every  happiness.  I  have  had  no  pang  to  live 
down.  I  simply  offered  myself  to  her  because,  in 
mad  folly,  I  wanted  to  prove  to  people  that  I  was 
not  trying  to  win  the  regard  of  a  rich  woman." 

"  You  had  not  tried  to  win  the  regard  of  a  rich 
woman  ? "  asked  Milly.  A  thrill  ran  through  her 
speech. 

"  I  loved  a  woman  who  happened  to  be  rich," 
said  Breck.  "  As  to  trying  to  win  her  regard," 
—  his  voice  broke,  —  "I  did  not  think  of  it ;  I 
only  thought  of  loving  her.  It  did  not  occur 
to  me  I  ran  the  risk  of  being  called  a  fortune- 
hunter." 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  very  proud,  Mr.  Breck," 
said  Milly. 

"  It  seems  to  me  I  was  a  stupid  coward,"  cried 
Breck.  "  I  loved  her.  I  have  never  loved  another 
woman ;  I  never  shall  love  another  woman.  But 
simply  because  Ruff  stirred  up  my  vanity  and 
rage,  I  cut  myself  off  from  the  right  to  tell  her 
that  I  loved  her  by  pretending  to  care  for  some- 
body else, — by  giving  my  sacred  promise  to 
somebody  else."  He  looked  into  her  eyes  with 
an  intense  and  penetrating  gaze.  "  Emily,"  he 
said,  "  I  wanted  you  to  hear  this  from  me,  but  I 
do  flot  in  any  way  try  to  justify  myself.  I  made 
a  foolish  mistake,  which  has  cost  me  dear.  I  can- 
not make  any  effort  yet  to  repair  it;  I  simply 
wish  to  confess  it,  and  then  to  go  away  —  " 


CIPHERS.  309 

"Go  away?"  repeated  Milly  in  amazement. 
"Why  should  you  go  away?  " 

"  I  cannot  come  and  tell  you  I  made  love  to 
another  woman,  —  was  first  accepted,  and  then 
jilted  by  her,  —  and  then  ask  you  to  marry  me, 
all  on  the  same  day,"  said  Breck,  as  if  with  indig- 
nation. 

"  Exactly,"  said  Milly.  "  I  agree  with  you 
that  the  latter  part  would  be  entirely  too  much. 
'  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  So, 
now,  let  us  take  a  walk ;  we  are  just  in  time  to 
hear  the  thrushes  sing." 

He  made  a  little  gesture  as  of  despair.  "I 
intended  to  tell  you  my  story  and  walk  off  rapidly, 
vanishing  in  the  distance  before  you  could  collect 
your  thoughts,"  he  said. 

"  The  fine  dramatic  effect  would  be  wasted  on 
such  a  small  audience;  besides,  I  should  feel  so 
badly  to  see  you  vanish  in  the  far  distance,"  said 
Milly.  "  Come ;  there  is  such  a  pretty  walk,  and 
the  dogs  are  so  anxious  to  go." 

He  flung  his  knapsack  on  the  grass,  and  to- 
gether they  entered  the  wood,  where  the  thrushes 
were  singing.  The  dogs  ran  on  before,  following 
up  vague  rustles,  thrilled  with  the  delight  and 
mystery  of  chasing  shadows,  which  looked  alive 
and  whisked  like  ears  and  tails;  barking  into 
holes  in  the  boles  of  the  trees  with  a  fierce  rapture 
of  delight.  Presently,  from  beneath  tall  chestnuts 
and  oaks,  which  stood  like  sentinels,  they  issued 
again  into  the  open,  and  looked  across  the  valley 


310  CIPHERS. 

to  the  dazzling  lights  and  solemn  shadows  of  the 
range  of  hills.  They  passed  beside  the  crystal 
pool,  which  imaged  the  blue  heaven,  the  little 
fleecy  clouds,  and  all  the  lovely  golden  and  white 
and  rosy  things  that  struck  sweet  notes,  as  it  were, 
among  the  green  of  the  banks. 

It  was  here  they  found  wild  strawberries,  which 
they  sat  down  and  ate  like  two  children,  each  pick- 
ing for  the  other.  They  said  little,  but  each  word 
spoken  seemed  to  let  smiles  and  laughter  loose. 
If  one  looked  at  their  faces,  one  would  have 
said  that  nowhere  under  the  blue  heaven  that  day 
were  there  two  happier  people  than  Sidney  and 
Emily. 

It  was  when  they  had  eaten  the  strawberries 
that  he  found  a  wild  rose,  and,  picking,  gave  it 
to  her. 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  she  said,  tucking  it  in  her 
belt;  and  then,  raising  her  eyes,  she  met  his 
glance. 

"  I  am  so  pleased  that  you  will  be  here  to  meet 
papa  and  his  bride,"  she  said.  "  I  am  sure  they  are 
so  happy ;  cousin  Agnes  has  written  such  delight- 
ful letters.  You  know,"  —  she  said  this  with  a 
sudden  burst  of  confidence,  —  "I  made  that  match. 
Was  I  not  bold?  I  want  you  to  tell  me,  when 
you  see  them  together,  that  I  divined  rightly  that 
they  would  be  happy  together." 

"I  can't  stay,"  said  Breck  with  a  tragic  air. 
"How  can  I  stay?  and  particularly  to  see  two 
happy  people." 


CIPHERS.  311 

"Of  course  you  can  stay,"  said  Milly.  "Of 
course  you  must  stay.  The  idea  of  your  going 
away  is  ridiculous." 

"  But  if  I  stay,"  said  Breck,  "  I  shall  do  what  I 
did  not  intend  to  do.  I  shall  ask  you  to  marry 
me.  I  shall  say  what  I  expected  not  to  have  said 
until  after  weeks,  months,  perhaps  years  of  stern 
probation,  —  that  1  want  you  for  my  wife ;  that, 
no  matter  whether  you  are  poor  or  rich,  little  or 
great,  far  beyond  me,  above  me,  —  no  matter 
where,  —  I  love  you,  love  you  desperately ;  that, 
before  God,  I  will  try  to  make  you  happy." 

She  did  not  try  to  answer,  but  after  a  moment, 
gazing  into  her  face  and  seeing  that  her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears  and  her  lips  were  quivering,  he 
said,  as  if  half  frightened  by  his  own  joy,  "  Emily, 
my  Emily !  "  and  kissed  her. 

Then,  while  the  afternoon  lights  shimmered  and 
deepened,  they  walked  home  through  the  woods 
together. 


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